


Where Demons Hide

by luci_on_the_moon, plague of insomnia (chiealeman)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asthma, Asthmatic Ciel, Don’t copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Families of Choice, Forced Prostitution, Heavy Subject Matter Handled Sensitively, Human Sebastian Michaelis, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Mafia AU, Many Sexual Pairings Not Disclosed in the Tags (Spoilers), Multi, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Psychological Torture, Rape is NOT glamorized, Sexual Slavery, Switch Sebastian, Tags Subject to Change, Team as Family, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, Underage Prostitution, alter ego
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luci_on_the_moon/pseuds/luci_on_the_moon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiealeman/pseuds/plague%20of%20insomnia
Summary: “You can never escape the dragon’s talons.”In the hellish Houston heat, Sebastian lives a life divided: as Luci, he works as a talented escort extracting blackmail material for his boss, Joker, or enforcing for him and harassing his best friend and partner, Bard. When he’s not terrorizing, fucking, or killing, he shares a mundane life with his boyfriend Ciel and their friend Finny. But the demons of their past have arisen anew, shattering their carefully cultivated peace: after seven years, the Green Dragon is back for revenge. Against insurmountable odds, can they finally break free, or will they be forever enslaved?





	1. Prelude: Twisted Firestarter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, readers! We are so excited to finally bring you the opening of our collab saga we’ve been working on for weeks.
> 
> But PLEASE: if you haven’t already, READ THE TAGS. 
> 
> While this fic has a good dose of humor, it deals with difficult, heavy subject matter. While we have done our best to approach these issues sensitively, we will strive to give fair warning in the tags and notes.
> 
> This ain’t a kiddie ride, but we hope you’ll enjoy the rollercoaster we have in store.

 

Shadows draped across the spacious bedroom. A figure lay on its back on one side of the bed. Another crept through the darkness, noting the rumpled sheets beside the sleeping man and the heavy scent of sweat and sex lingering in the air. The other person must have just left, or perhaps the room always smelled like that.

He slunk silently nearer until his own shadow fell over the sleeping man. Soundlessly, the intruder removed his belt, looped it, and in a rapid, quiet movement slipped it over the sleeper’s head, pulling it tight.

Instantly awake, Joker struggled for air as he reached for the gun he kept under his pillow. But his attacker was faster, unrestrained, and nimbly hopped onto the bed, straddling his chest, pulling tighter on the belt to guide him out of reach as the gun was snatched away. Chest burning from lack of oxygen, Joker clutched the leather at his throat, desperate for relief.

His attacker laughed, hips rolling in an inappropriately sensual motion as he leaned forward so he could cock the gun without letting go of the belt. It wasn’t an easy feat, essentially using only one hand to pull the slide to arm the pistol, but the intruder was experienced. And pissed. And anger could fuel power. “Give me a reason not to kill you.” The shadowy figure relaxed the choke hold on Joker and pressed the barrel of the gun to his lips, metal clicking against teeth and hand threatening to tighten the pressure against his neck unless he opened to accept it. “Don’t think I won’t get away with it. Business is down, aging whores and sex trafficking stealing your customers, money’s tight, blah, blah, blah, same old story.” Throughout the speech, the gun thrust in and out of the terrified man’s mouth as if it were a cock begging to come. “Ate a bullet. Another pathetic life ended.” The intruder brushed off the safety, the soft _click_ making Joker’s brows rise in terror. His fear grew as his potential assassin continued to grind his hips, hard cock pressing into the other man’s sternum with every pass. “Maybe I’ll jerk myself off while I kill you.”

Realizing the intruder was even more insane than he’d previously thought, Joker lifted his hands just enough to show his surrender.

The attacker sighed and removed the gun without resetting the safety. His movements stilled, though he kept his hand on the belt and his knees on the arms of the man beneath him.

“How—how do you explain the marks from the belt?” Joker’s voice was hoarse from being choked.

A snort, as if that question hadn’t been expected, followed by an amused laugh. “Autoerotic asphyxiation,” the words said as if the answer was obvious. “If you _really_ piss me off, I’ll choke you to death and make sure you’re found with your dick in your hand and the most deviant child porn available on the dark web. Not that it matters, because no one will miss you.” The last few words were punctuated by hard pelvic thrusts. “In fact, a lot of people would thank me.”

Now that the intruder had leaned forward, his face came into view, leaving no uncertainty as to his identity. Sebastian’s red eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, and Joker had no doubt that his attacker had every intent to kill him if Joker wasn’t careful. Sebastian had threatened him many times over the years, but never with such cold, hatred-filled eyes.

“You wouldn’t kill me, Luci,” Joker said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as weak as he felt. “We have too much history together.”

Sebastian’s laugh sent a chill down Joker’s spine. It was heartless, callous. Inhuman. “I let you fuck me because I had to. Business. If you think I ever—ha! I can hardly even say it—thought you were more than a means to an end, then your nickname is perfect because you really are a fool, Joker.”

Joker chuckled nervously as Sebastian tugged on the belt, forcing him to stretch his neck uncomfortably to avoid being choked again. “Guess I underestimated how much you care about that little blue-haired brat.”

Sebastian stiffened, but only for an instant. “ _Never_ underestimate me,” he said as he popped the clip out of the gun, the heavy lead landing with a painful thud on Joker’s chest. He climbed off, pulling the slide and dumping the chambered bullet on the floor before disassembling the pistol and tossing it across the room. “Keep the belt. Each time you use it when you jack off, you can think of me and my giant cock,” Sebastian growled as he grabbed his crotch. “And remember, the only reason you’re still alive is because I don’t want to deal with all the bureaucratic BS that comes with taking over the business if you’re dead.” Sebastian paused in the doorway. “But if you _ever_ put Ciel in harm’s way,” he said, dragging a match against the bottom of his shoe until it ignited into a bright flame, “I will _burn_ you.”

 


	2. Spark of Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooo much to everyone who left kudos and comments on the prelude, or who sent us asks on Tumblr! 
> 
> It made us so excited we couldn't wait to post this next part.
> 
> Sorry if you got some weird notifications for this second chapter, AO3 sorta glitched on us.

The text from Joker was short: a time, a room number, and a brief note, _New client. Entire night. Be on guard. Extract all you can._

Standing outside the designated hotel room door, Sebastian sighed. Perhaps this was Joker’s revenge for the death threat. But Sebastian had spent the last seven years doing anything and everything that fucker wanted, as long as he promised to keep Ciel safe. Selling Sebastian’s boyfriend in any capacity was a violation of their agreement, and Sebastian seethed, especially when he had to go in blind tonight to entertain a potentially dangerous client. It was nearly impossible for Sebastian to carry weapons on his person for these rendezvous, and Joker’s enemies knew that. If they could get Sebastian, Joker’s black knight, the king would be exposed and his empire would crumble.

Fortunately, Joker owned this hotel, and this room was one of the few Sebastian worked regularly, so he knew its layout as well as his own home. He shifted his bag, slipping a hand into the concealed carry compartment, his fingers brushing against the familiar grip of his closed-hammer .357 magnum revolver. With this gun and design, he could shoot through the bag before his client had a chance to attack or even realize Sebastian was armed.

If it came to that.

Fortunately, due to his strikingly handsome face and light, lithe frame, even those who should not have often underestimated him. And he’d learned that even a second of hesitation could bring destruction.

Sebastian took a deep, calming breath, rolled his neck, and used the keycard to unlock the door. When the lights flashed green, he pushed it open slowly with his free hand, prepared to use all his weight to shove against someone who might be hoping to ambush him as he entered. To his relief, the door opened without resistance, and as he cautiously stepped in, the eerie quiet struck him.

Perhaps what Joker meant by “be on guard” wasn’t entirely literal. Perhaps the person waiting in the bed was a prominent closeted politician or celebrity. It was almost a cliche at this point. Stupid, horny men so afraid of their sexuality they’d pay for a night of pleasure in more ways than one. Sebastian was excellent at getting both men and women alike to confess their most dangerous secrets while ensuring their coupling was caught on one of the many cameras hidden in the suite.

Blackmail was, by far, Joker’s most lucrative business. And no one was better at collecting information to sell than Sebastian.

In tarot, the Fool—Joker—was the wild card who could herald unexpected events and foretell breathtaking coincidences with the power to upturn any ordinary life.

What Sebastian didn’t realize in that moment was the life about to be thrown into chaos wasn’t his client’s, but his own.

* * *

 

A man dressed all in black with long gray hair, bangs brushed over his eyes reclined on the bed, arms stretched behind him, legs crossed, foot bobbing. One look told Sebastian this wasn’t an assassin, or a politician, or a celebrity, or someone from a wealthy family. It was difficult to see his face from how his long bangs shadowed it, but the color of it suggested age. Perhaps a lonely middle-aged man who’d been suckered by Joker into paying for the premium package.

The man didn’t seem to notice Sebastian—perhaps his eyes were closed? It was impossible to tell with his fringe masking so much of his face.

That made Sebastian uneasy, his instincts warning him to be wary, so he kept his hand in his bag, on his gun, ready to shoot, just in case. The first rule of survival was never to be caught unaware. “Hey, it’s Luci. From the agency? You booked me tonight?” Sebastian purred, cocking his hip and hooking his free thumb through a belt loop of his figure-hugging skinny jeans, getting into character. Sebastian peered through his eyelashes toward the mysterious man, licking his lips seductively. He couldn’t be sure if the man was looking his way or not. Or if he posed a physical threat yet.

The man didn’t respond immediately, shifting his weight on his elbows. Certainly not a position that suggested he was ready to attack. “Lucy? Isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“It’s short for Lucifer,” Sebastian said with a grin, flashing the tips of his sharp canines. “And I’m all man.” His tight pants outlined his large bulge, leaving little to the imagination, and Sebastian stroked himself through the fabric with the tips of his free fingers, thumb still threaded through the belt loop, hoping to draw the man’s attention.

The client seemed to consider Sebastian’s offer for an extended moment before he put a long black fingernail to his lips and began to giggle. Not laugh or chuckle, but _giggle_ like a 12-year-old girl at a slumber party.

Sebastian didn’t hide his frown. He was good at his job, and even if he was technically getting paid for it, he didn’t appreciate being mocked.

Just when Sebastian thought the man was over his outburst, he crossed his arms on his chest, gripped his sides, and began to howl with laughter, rolling on the bed, one leg kicking the air. The client wore coal-black skinny jeans tucked into thigh-high heeled boots with dozens of buckled straps and an upturned, pointed toe that would have been home in an early Tim Burton film.

The man sputtered and finally released his arms, dropping onto a single elbow, angled toward Sebastian with one leg bent, braced on the edge of the bed. The sensual pose was magnified when his laughter softened and he used one hand to push his bangs off his face, holding them there.

The sight rendered Sebastian speechless.

The client looked to be much closer to Sebastian’s age than he’d realized, more like mid-30s to 40s than geriatric, with a long face and a pointed chin and a slim nose. An old jagged scar sliced across his face, through one eye, which seemed cloudy as if it were blind. His irises were an intense, vivid light green that took Sebastian’s breath away. He was stunning. Perhaps the most beautiful man Sebastian had ever seen. Numerous piercings decorated both ears, and a long, thin single braid hung down on the right side of his face.

Perhaps the scars made the man self conscious with non-paying lovers. Now Sebastian saw one looped around his right pinky like a ring, and another circled his neck. The edge of yet another peeked through the top of his form-fitting black T-shirt.

Sebastian decided while the man was clearly eccentric, he wasn’t here to kill. At least not yet, and the longer Sebastian clung to his bag the more suspicious he might appear. He carefully set it down on the sofa, far enough from the client but near enough Sebastian could grab it in a pinch. But he was confident he was stronger than this gray-haired man if it came down to bare hands. “Joker told you the rules?” Sebastian asked, striding forward, gaze fixed on those piercing green eyes.

The man nodded. “No kissing,” he said as he ticked off each guideline on a long, black-nailed finger, “nothing without a condom. Don’t damage the merchandise. Too much.” The man giggled again.

Once more, Sebastian frowned. Less at the man’s mocking laughter than his interpretation of Joker’s rule about how rough the sex could get. He didn’t appreciate being called “merchandise.” But he forced a seductive smile to quickly take its place. “Tell me what you want. Unless you want me to tell you.” Sebastian wasn’t a Dom, but he did command respect both in and out of the bedroom, and many of his clients chose him exactly for that reason.

The man hummed. His leg bobbed again. He seemed to be studying Sebastian, not with a lascivious gaze but as if he were trying to see through his Luci persona. “How long have you been doing this?”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed suspiciously before he stopped himself. He couldn’t give anything away, especially not how unsettled this strange green-eyed man made him. Sebastian was skilled enough in the art of deception—of using sweet words and unexpected questions, combined with his sex appeal and good looks to get others to reveal their most hidden secrets—to recognize when those same techniques were being used against him. Perhaps this new client’s honeyed words were exactly what Joker had been warning Sebastian against.

“We can talk, if that’s what you really want,” Sebastian said as he approached until he was standing between the man’s legs. His finger bumped along the straps on the boot of the bobbing leg, eyes locked on the client’s and full of promise.

For the first time, the man’s aloof demeanor faltered and he took in a harsh breath.

 _Gotcha_. Sebastian grinned, knowing the tips of his sharp canines showed below his lips, combined with his unusual mahogany eyes, giving him a feral look. He pushed forward until he was leaning over the client, his hands braced on either side of the man’s torso. This close, Sebastian could see the scars were old, appearing darker than the surrounding skin. He balanced, freeing a hand to lightly trace along the scar on the man’s neck, then down to the one visible on his chest.

The man’s breathing had grown ragged from the proximity, the touch. But he struggled to talk anyway. “Why do you call yourself Lucifer?”

“Because I’m simply one hell of a whore,” Sebastian said, the joke never getting old despite how cheesy it was. He flashed a playful grin.

The man laughed, though this one felt more genuine, not as condescending as before. He suddenly stopped, and one hand reached to cup Sebastian’s face, thumb tracing one of the escort’s high cheekbones. “You’re beautiful.”

Sebastian blinked. He knew he was an attractive man. He took pride in his appearance and spent several hours a day on his exercise and beauty regimen to keep his face and body looking as good as possible. Out in the real world, he might have been in his prime, but he had to compete against a legion of younger men both within his own agency and elsewhere.

Men and women called him beautiful all the time. Almost always during sex, and anything said in the throes of mindless passion was meaningless, in Sebastian’s opinion. Some even said it before or after, but the word always signified something else. Typically, it suggested the client saw Sebastian as merchandise, as an _object_ and not a person. Sometimes, and especially from the women or the older, unattractive men with their sagging cocks and hairy bellies, it meant _thank you_. But from this strange green-eyed man, it seemed without artifice. And Sebastian didn’t know how to take that.

Before Sebastian’s brain could snap back to life, the man’s pale fingers were undoing the buttons of the form-fitting scarlet shirt Sebastian wore, the subtle scratch of those nails through the fabric surprisingly arousing. He soon finished and pushed the shirt away, up onto Sebastian’s shoulders, hands splayed, exploring the escort’s waxed chest. Undertaker hummed as he admired the previously hidden piercings. Today, Sebastian had chosen Luci’s favorites: stylized red and black nipple shields with devil horns on the top of the loop that led around to a pointed tail, hanging below. Then, for a playful twist, his black belly ring with the words “Fuck Me” dangling just above the waistband of his low-rise skinny jeans.

Undertaker chuckled as he used a nail to pull gently on the left nipple ring, making Sebastian grunt and swipe his tongue across his lips as if in promise.

The long-haired man seemed entranced in exploring Sebastian’s body, fingers dancing across ribs and subtly defined muscle, nails scraping over nipples around the piercings. They tightened; Sebastian’s breath grew jagged. Male clients never touched him this way. _He_ did the touching. Even when he played the submissive, Sebastian was _always_ in control.

Undertaker chuckled lowly, turning it into a pleased hum. “You feel amazing. Like a Greek statue.”

Sebastian smiled, pleased with the effect he was having on his client. “You’re pretty stunning yourself,” he said, and it felt strange not having to lie. “What would you like me to call you?”

The man tugged on one of Sebastian’s belt loops, urging him closer, sitting up to meet him halfway, so that Sebastian was standing between the client’s legs. He flicked the belly piercing, nails dancing across the skin below it before he leaned closer to lick all along the escort’s waistband, gripping Sebastian’s hips with both hands forcefully enough the escort would have stumbled were it not for excellent balance. Sebastian momentarily forgot himself as the green-eyed man hummed against him. It was almost unheard of for a client to tease him like this; even rarer for Sebastian to enjoy it. A sudden scrape of teeth just below his navel had him hardening, his chest heaving.

Suddenly, the stimulation cut off, and it was only Sebastian’s experience that kept him from letting out a whine of complaint. Clearly this client wanted to lead, but he’d booked Sebastian for a reason and he wouldn’t allow himself to be taken so easily. Besides, Sebastian had a job to do beyond getting the client off.

“Call me Undertaker,” the man said with a smirk, playing with the zipper of Sebastian’s fly, fingers grazing over his package. Eerie green eyes seemed to glow as he gazed up toward red ones. “I think we’ll have fun tonight.”


	3. They Call Me Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m super proud of this opening scene. If you’re a fast reader, you should be able to follow along while you listen to the song, as I did my best to write it so that it paralleled. —POI
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who commented, sent kudos, liked, reblogged, and shared! 💕

[](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/call-me-devil-ps-3-internet.png)

The opening beats of Friends in Tokyo’s “Call Me Devil” sounded from the room’s built-in sound system. Standing barefoot, Sebastian’s shirt hung open as he leaned back, one hand slapping his thigh in time to the clapping of the recording, his head bobbing, one knee bouncing. His other hand slid up over his package, over his belt, stomach, and up to his chest. He rocked his pelvis, and as the guitar riff began to play, twisted his hips and legs, sinking down into a crouch and slowly rising up again, movements matching the rhythm. He shook his ass, his eyes never leaving Undertaker’s.

 _“I ain’t no angel,_ ” the first line of the song belted, and Sebastian leaned back, undulating his entire upper body. _“Don’t got no halo.”_ One hand grabbed his crotch, massaging it, while the other slid along firm muscle, past his nipple ring, fingers splayed along his neck until they reached dark hair, fisting it. His mouth opened like he was moaning, though no sound escaped past the loud beat of drums.

 _“I cut off my wings/made my momma scream_ .” Sebastian twisted, his back toward his client, shrugging off his shirt with a dip of his head, raven locks cascading down. He turned just enough to look over his shoulder at Undertaker as his own hands explored his chest, lower back, and ass. _“I’m your darkest dream_.” He added a sideways thrust, knees bent, the movement rippling through his body from his ankles up.

“ _They call me devil/my heart is empty,”_ the song continued, and Sebastian kicked a leg up to aid in his momentum, falling backwards onto his hands. _“They call me devil/just try and tempt me.”_ Hands and feet supporting him, knees bent, he humped the air, slow, sinuous, perfectly matched to the music, head tipped back so heated red eyes met green. He shifted his weight, balanced on three limbs, never stopping his tortuous, sinuating dance, freeing a hand to rove over his body, toying with his piercings.

 _“I’ll steal your soul/I’ll eat you whole.”_ Using a single hand, Sebastian pushed off, flipping onto his stomach. Palms and groin met the ground and he lifted his upper body only, back curved, as if he were doing a sensual yoga pose. _“Ain’t no other way/they call me devil_ .” He held the position with the strength of a single arm and his core, reaching out toward Undertaker, trailing his fingers along the straps of his client’s boot like a greedy soul reaching up from the Styx. _“And you should be afraid._ ” With that line of the song, Sebastian fixed his gaze on Undertaker, a look that was simultaneously sensual and dangerous.

As the musical interlude began, Sebastian crawled forward, forcing Undertaker’s legs apart, splaying them as wide as he could.

 _“I’ll tell you lies.”_ Sebastian stood up on his knees, leaned back, stroking himself through his jeans while the other started at his neck and slid down, bumping over lean muscle, swaying to the beat. His tongue swiped over his lips. _“I’ll crawl inside your mind.”_ Sebastian leapt to his feet, stepped up on the edge of the bed, feet nestled into his client’s crotch, his hands in the man’s hair as he rocked his hips, groin pressing only centimeters from Undertaker’s nose.

Sebastian’s eyes locked on his client’s. _“Grab hold of your eyes/I will make you mine_ .” Sebastian flashed a grin, then hopped, arms up, bending his knees and pointing his toes as he rolled backwards in the air, flipping as if off a high-dive, using a favorite fighting move, only he didn’t kick or choke his client, ensuring his limbs missed the man as he landed in a handstand, facing away from the white-haired man. “ _I’m gonna take my time.”_

 _“They call me devil/my heart is empty/they call me devil/just try and tempt me_ .” He eased down, chest to the ground, humping it, eyes fixed once again on Undertaker for only a moment before throwing an arm over to rotate his body onto his back. “ _I’ll steal your soul/I’ll eat you whole_ ,” the song echoed again, and this time Sebastian leaned up into a crouch, pressing his hands into the ground in front of him to push off into a backwards tumble, his ass falling into Undertaker’s lap, causing the long-haired man to grunt in surprise. Although his face was hidden, Sebastian grinned with triumph, adjusting his weight on his hands and feet so he could roll his ass into his client’s crotch.

 _“Ain’t no other way/they call me devil/and you should be afraid_.” With a powerful push, Sebastian rolled back and up so he was seated in Undertaker’s lap, rocking his pelvis in time to the music.

Undertaker wasted no time wrapping his hands around the escort’s waist, pulling him close enough Sebastian could feel his client’s hard-on, giving him a sense of satisfaction as he arched into it.

As the second musical interlude began, Sebastian reached back to grab Undertaker’s neck, using it and a hand on the man’s leg to help rotate his body in his client’s lap, legs in the air until Sebastian’s back was supported by the man’s thighs. He wrapped his legs around his client’s body, arms bridging back so his hands could support him against the floor, giving him leverage to lift his hips toward Undertaker’s face, crotch bumping the man’s chin with each sinusoidal movement.

The song headed toward its finale, the singer chanting, _“I’m coming, I’m coming/so start running, start running_ ,” repeatedly, and Sebastian slithered back to the floor onto his knees. Keeping eye contact, he flexed his torso until his shoulders met the ground, arching his back, stroking himself through his pants, teasing his nipples, mouth agape as if he were masturbating and nearing his peak. The more the lines repeated, the more intensely Sebastian rolled his pelvis, shimmied his shoulders, fondling himself, chest heaving, toned stomach sucked in as if he truly were as near his own climax as the song was.

 _“They call me devil/my heart is empty/they call me devil/just try and tempt me/I’ll steal your soul/I’ll eat you whole_ ,” the singer sang for the final time, and Sebastian leaned back on his elbow, freeing up a hand, dipping each of his fingers into his mouth in turn, pulling them back out along his tongue, eyes rolled up in his head as if in ecstasy.

 _“Ain’t no other way/they call me devil/and you should be afraid._ ” As the song ebbed, Sebastian humped the air a final time, clenching his ab muscles visibly, mimicking a tremble, moaning loud enough to be heard over the twang of guitar, as if he really had come. He rose up onto his knees, head tilted but gaze fixed on Undertaker, back arched, mouth opened, chest heaving.

With the final beat, Sebastian winked, and the room was silent.

“Fuuuuck me,” Undertaker said, barely managing the words he was panting so hard, pupils blown and pale flesh flushed.

Sebastian smirked. “Gladly.”

 

* * *

 

“I think I’m beginning to see why they call you devil,” Undertaker murmured. “I’ve seen my share of dancing, and that was pretty fucking impressive.” He pulled Sebastian closer by his belt loops.

Sebastian leaned in so their mouths were so close they could taste each others’ breath. “Don’t tell Joker, but I accept tips.” He grinned. “And shafts.”

Undertaker guffawed, but it wasn’t mocking like his initial laughter had been, his gaze hungry. His hand crawled through Sebastian’s hair, tilting his head to expose his neck. An instant later, his lips and teeth found heated skin, nipping and licking and biting, causing Sebastian to moan and arch into the man’s touch.

Sebastian grabbed a handful of gray locks and tugged, pulling Undertaker away.

The man wasn’t swayed, grinning. He licked his lips, slid the pad of his fingers over the bruise he’d left on the escort’s shoulder. They trailed lower, teasing the nipple ring along the way, nails scratching, a satisfied hum when Sebastian’s breath stuttered in response. _Scritch_ , _scratching_ over taut abs to flick the navel ring until it danced. Popped the button of Sebastian’s jeans, unzipped his fly. “My, my,” Undertaker murmured appreciatively as the red silk front of the escort’s thong came into view, his large cock visible through the thin fabric. The grey-haired man’s tongue darted out again, eyes roving over the escort’s body. Then he gestured with his fingers in a circular motion. “Turn around. Take these off,” he commanded, tugging a belt loop.

“And if I don’t?” Sebastian’s smile was devilish, his red eyes shining, but he obeyed, lifting his arms in the air as if to stretch, spinning around so his back was to his client. Hands on his hips, he bent forward, slowly slipping his jeans down over his plump, muscular ass, exposing the eight bands of his thong that spread like fingers over his skin, perpendicular from the central string. His devil’s tail cover-up tattoo peeked from behind the various straps. 

He hadn’t even gotten his jeans past his thighs when he felt pressure along the thong string, and he let out a low groan. Undertaker’s green eyes clearly hadn’t missed the narrow, elongated base of the butt plug snuggled between Sebastian’s ass cheeks. He wiggled it some more, chuckling at the dark-haired man’s reaction.

The curved plug bumped Sebastian’s prostate each time his client wriggled the base, causing his breathing to hitch and his cock to stiffen. Moving with the plug inside him was almost like being brutally fucked, making it easier for him to feign ecstasy during the dance. And it also helped him get and stay hard—without drugs.

Undertaker worked a nail between one of the taunt bands along Sebastian’s ass, tugging on it, putting pressure on the plug, humming to himself, clearly amused by the reaction it elicited.

The older man wrapped an arm around Sebastian’s waist, drawing him closer, continuing to tease the escort with the plug as he pressed his hard-on into the back of Sebastian’s thigh. His hand wandered lower, cupping the escort’s balls through the silk, then reaching up along the growing bulge stretching the fabric, teasing the top of the tip with the back of his nail.

Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, moaned, a loud, drawn out, plaintive sound, laying his hand on top of Undertaker’s, urging it to stroke his cock though the thong. His hips rocked into the plug and forward toward his client’s hand, head tipped back, momentarily forgetting himself.

Undertaker abandoned teasing Sebastian to tug the escort’s jeans down to his ankles. Without letting him step out of them, Undertaker wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s torso, grinding his stiff cock into a plump ass cheek as if in promise.

Sebastian’s chest heaved. He didn’t like this vulnerable position; with his ankles trapped like this, escaping—if the need arose—would be difficult.

As if reading his thoughts, Undertaker leaned into Sebastian’s ear, the nails of one hand repeatedly brushing over a nipple while the other returned to stroking Sebastian’s cock through the silk. “Don’t like not being in control, do you?” Undertaker shifted, rubbing his thigh against the plug while he snaked his hand into the pouch of Sebastian’s thong, teasing his cock with those nails.

Sebastian snarled in answer, debating about what was the best move to disable his client and escape his grip.

The green-eyed man nibbled the shell of Sebastian’s ear, trailing away to mouth along his neck and shoulder, licking the lines of the muscle. He suddenly tweaked Sebastian’s nipple hard, causing the dark-haired man to buck his hips with a grunt. Undertaker chuckled in satisfaction and then pulled away without warning. In a commanding tone, he said, “Lose the thong and stand with your hands on the wall, feet shoulder width apart.”

Sebastian obeyed, though he couldn’t help a glance back at Undertaker, whose eyes were once again hidden by his bangs. He didn’t look like a cop, and the man certainly had a twisted sense of humor, but it wasn’t just his own life that would be at risk if Sebastian got arrested, but Ciel’s and Finny’s too. Joker had all the region’s law enforcement in his pocket, but he didn’t own anyone beyond the state level as far as Sebastian knew. He remembered his boss’s warning and reminded himself he had a job to do.

Sebastian listened to the sound of buckles clinking as Undertaker removed those long boots, followed by a zip and a crumple of fabric as he disrobed. The prominent scars scored his torso, his skin almost translucent, his arms muscled and stomach toned, and again Sebastian wondered why such an attractive man who clearly knew his way around another man’s body was paying for an escort.

Undertaker was quiet as he stroked Sebastian’s shoulders and along his back down to his ass with a mixture of appreciation and reassurance. His nails scratched the delicate skin of Sebastian’s ass as he reached for the plug, twisting it subtly before slowly pulling it out and working it back in, fucking him with it, making Sebastian hiss and pant and stand up on his toes, pressing into the wall to keep himself upright.

Sebastian’s long, thick cock brushed the wall as he rocked, and he started to reach down to stroke it, but Undertaker grabbed his wrist with surprising strength to stop him.

“I didn’t say you could move.”

Sebastian growled. He could easily throw his client if necessary, but he complied, stretching his body, sticking his stomach out to try to get more friction on his aching cock as his client brutally fucked him with the plug. Panting and moaning loudly, and only partly for show.

“What’s wrong?” Undertaker whispered with faux innocence, continuing his relentless torture with the plug while his other hand wandered over Sebastian’s chest, across his stomach to tickle and tease his cock without stroking it.

Sebastian whined and rocked his hips, hair cascading into his face as his neck turned to jelly.

“Beautiful,” Undertaker murmured, fingers splayed over the other man’s stomach, which tensed each time the plug pressed against his prostate. Long hair fell between them, strangely erotic as it slid over Sebastian’s skin, dipping across his nipple piercings when Undertaker leaned in to drag his teeth over the space between Sebastian’s shoulder and neck. He sucked a trail of bruises from one shoulder to the other, humming in satisfaction with every sound Sebastian made.

Undertaker slid the plug in and out at a faster pace. “Look at that,” he remarked with amusement as he swiped a finger over the head of Sebastian’s leaking cock, causing the escort to grunt and buck his hips out of rhythm. “Mmm,” the long-haired man hummed as his tongue swiped his fingertip clean.

Sebastian mashed his hands against the wall, feeling his body trembling with the effort of holding back his orgasm. Something he was very good at, and normally wasn’t much of an issue with his clients, but his prostate could only take so much before physiology seized control. And being fucked after he came would be . . . unpleasant.

Fortunately, Undertaker either took pity or grew impatient, his own hard-on pressing painfully into Sebastian’s hip, and he removed the plug and set it aside.

It took a moment for Sebastian to catch his breath. “Don’t you fucking dare stick those talons inside me,” he warned with menace, glancing over his shoulder.

Undertaker guffawed but said nothing intelligible as he tied his hair into a high ponytail. Sebastian watched the man stroke himself a few times. It was his first good view of the other man’s cock, which wasn’t as long or as thick as Sebastian’s, but still made him grateful for the prep. “Keep that attitude up and I might forget the lube,” Undertaker teased as he snatched a condom from the basket on the table and rolled it on.

Sebastian bared his teeth but said nothing. He’d lubed the plug well intentionally, as not all his clients were gentle or considerate, but he didn’t appreciate the way this man enjoyed toying with him like a cat taunting its prey.

“Down, demon. Just a joke.” He used the pump on the large bottle of lube on the table beside the condoms, showing off the clear goo in his hand in a sign of good faith.

Not bothering to ask for “permission,” Sebastian coated his fingers and stuck two inside with ease, stretched from the plug, spreading the lube.

Undertaker—who was shockingly strong—tore Sebastian’s arm away and placed it back on the wall after using his own arm to angle the other man’s hips how he wanted. He rocked against Sebastian, his cock sliding along the crease before he guided it toward the hole. The head of Undertaker’s sheathed cock passed with little resistance through the first ring of muscle, and he held himself still as he gave time for Sebastian to adjust, teeth sinking into the skin of the escort’s shoulder blade.

Sebastian reminded himself to breathe, to bear down and allow the intrusion. It didn’t help that the fucker was covering his back with hickeys; it was going to take enough concealer to deal with the bruises for the next couple weeks he had half a mind to charge extra.

Undertaker pressed Sebastian’s head toward the wall, fingers tangling in dark hair as he sank in deeper with a grunt of pleasure, preparation and patience allowing Sebastian’s body to easily accept his client’s cock.

They groaned together at the connection, the fullness urging Sebastian to move. He reached up and yanked Undertaker’s hand from his hair and shoved it against the wall, laying his on top, using the leverage to push back, clenching and rolling his hips. Crying out for effect.

Undertaker didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped Sebastian’s hips hard enough to bruise as he thrust, adjusting his angle with every pass until he brushed Sebastian’s prostate, causing a chuckle of satisfaction in answer to a shout Sebastian had to only partly exaggerate.

Standing at his full height, Undertaker kept their bodies pressed close together, both violently meeting each other thrust for thrust. Each time Sebastian clenched, the long-haired man groaned and swore. His right hand shifted to wrap around Sebastian’s heavy cock, stroking in time to the roll of his pelvis, leaving the escort battling between rocking back to satisfy his client and wanting to fuck the fist pulling expertly along his length.

Undertaker chuckled, took his hand away and fisted black hair to press Sebastian’s face into the wall as he fucked him into it as if trying to crush the escort beneath him. Sebastian’s forehead knocked against the drywall with every rough thrust until he grunted and reached up until his fingers found silky gray hair.

[ ](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/wdh-call-me-devil2-png-chapter.png)

Sebastian grabbed a handful of Undertaker’s ponytail and tugged, pulling him back to regain leverage and space so he was no longer pinned. He arched his back to angle his pelvis and chest toward Undertaker, giving him extra room to place his hands on the wall and push.

Undertaker grunted, laughed as if he were entertained by Sebastian’s spunk, leaned closer, nose buried in the nape of Sebastian’s hair. He murmured something against it too quiet for Sebastian to hear, then bit down hard, right on the cord of muscle.

“Fuck!” Sebastian cried at the sudden pain, clenching and dipping his head forward to lean against his forearm as they continued to move.

Undertaker laved the bite and gripped the escort’s chest so hard it seemed to push all the air from Sebastian’s lungs, causing a throbbing ache to flare up all along each rib thanks to a childhood injury.

 The escort tried to lift his leg, to bend his knee and use it against the wall for leverage if he needed it, because his instincts warned him this man was, in fact, dangerous.

“I didn’t say you could move,” Undertaker warned again, though he grabbed Sebastian’s leg and raised it, extending it until his foot hit the table, spreading Sebastian’s ass and allowing Undertaker to bury his length until his balls slapped against skin. “Never thought ass this expensive was worth it,” Undertaker panted, “but I’m starting to rethink that.”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder, momentarily disrupting their rhythm, not sure if he should be flattered or offended.

“Don’t look at me,” Undertaker growled, wrapping a hand around the other’s neck, pushing his face away and bracing himself against it to drive harder. His other arm wrapped around Sebastian’s middle, long fingers pressing bruises into his stomach, nails digging in and drawing blood as the older man yanked Sebastian to him so they were back to chest.

The intense pain and pleasure, the stretch in his leg, all of it blended together in a dizzying milieu that made Sebastian forget himself for a moment. He groaned loudly for effect as he inwardly chastized himself, casually guiding his client’s hand away from his neck.

Undertaker didn’t fight, causing Sebastian to let out a breath in relief. His client didn’t seem to notice, shifting the hand from the escort’s neck to his leg, lifting it even higher, testing Sebastian’s flexibility as he drove deeper, the nails from his other hand gouging into the skin just above Sebastian’s navel as the older man chased his orgasm.

Sebastian rammed one hand against the wall to keep his body pressed to his client’s, undulating his torso, grunting and moaning to enhance his performance, gripping his knee to support his leg.

Undertaker took the opportunity to pull his hand away, fisting Sebastian’s cock teasingly, long languid strokes to match his thrusts.

Sebastian met his movements, rocking his pelvis until he heard the older man groan and fingers tangle painfully in hair as if holding on, yanking the escort’s head back to expose his neck.

As Undertaker drove harder, he sucked at Sebastian’s throat, teeth digging in but not biting as his talons curled into the flesh of the escort’s toned stomach, muscles bunching. The gray-haired man’s rhythm began to falter as he neared his peak. A few powerful, slower thrusts caused Sebastian’s knee to bump the wall, the force driving him up onto his toes to try to keep his balance.

Sebastian grunted, wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled as he felt Undertaker tense behind him; his client was close.

“Come,” the long-haired man commanded in a husky voice.

Sebastian nodded and timed his strokes with his backward tilt of his pelvis, imagining his hand was Ciel’s tight ass and the room was theirs. How the younger man’s pale skin would become mottled with pink when he was aroused. With a shout, Sebastian arched his back as he came, seed shooting through his fingers to splatter his chest and the wall.

Moments later, Undertaker found his own release with a grunt, nails sinking into taut flesh as his fingers curled, his rocking slowly ebbing until he finally grew still, panting heavily and laughing.

Sebastian lowered his leg and reached behind him to ensure the condom wouldn’t come off as they separated. Then he pried Undertaker’s talons from his stomach, blood sliding down toward his softening cock. He could feel the throb of abused muscles and torn skin all along his back, shoulders, and neck, and the pulse of the gouges across his midsection. Ciel was going to be pissed. Sebastian took a few moments to stretch, pretending not to pay much mind to the other man. In fact, he was very carefully observing Undertaker, still uncertain as to what to expect from him.

 

* * *

 

Sebastian reclined on one of the sofas in the suite. His red and black silk kimono-style, thigh-length robe draped lazily around him, leaving his chest exposed. He pretended to be focused on his tea, when in fact he was studying Undertaker.

The strange client sat nearby, his legs stretched out, a towel wrapped around his waist, staring unabashedly at the escort.

Sebastian savored the flavor of the warm jasmine tea on his tongue and tried to ignore his craving for a cigarette. He’d quit years ago for Ciel’s health, but he still itched for one everyone now and then, and not being able to easily figure out this client was wearing at him. “Are you really?”

“Really what?” He had taken his hair down and was supporting his head with his hand, elbow propped on the back of the couch, bangs parted to reveal those strange eyes.

“An undertaker?”

He chuckled as if laughing at his own private joke. “No. It’s just a nickname.” A painfully obvious one if he killed people for a living. Sebastian wasn’t ready to dismiss the man as dangerous, but he’d had many opportunities to attack or physically threaten Sebastian and hadn’t.

Sebastian absently touched his neck. Most clients didn’t even bother getting the escort off unless it was somehow part of their kink or fed their ego. If Undertaker really did intend to kill Sebastian by the end of the night, he was pretty twisted to ensure an orgasm or two along the way first.

“The name started as a joke, but I’m rather fond of jokes, so I took to it.” He shrugged casually.

Sebastian smiled. It was fake, to put the other man at ease, but no one except Ciel and Bard would be able to tell. This was their first real chance at conversation and he wasn’t going to let it pass. “Sure you don’t want any tea?” Sebastian asked, holding up the pot before topping off his cup.

Undertaker didn’t reply immediately, watching all of Sebastian’s movements as if captivated. Maybe because he thought the escort was beautiful, as he’d admitted earlier; Sebastian was used to drawing stares from men and women alike even when he wasn’t half naked and being paid for his body. Finally, as if catching himself, Undertaker shook his head. “You’ve been doing this a long time.”

“Serving tea?” Sebastian deflected as he curled his legs up, settling back into his spot, cradling his mug in his hands.

Undertaker was surprisingly serious when he replied, “Convincing people to give up information.”

Inwardly, Sebastian froze, but outwardly, he remained as unruffled as ever, shrugging so the fabric of his robe slipped down over his shoulder, exposing more of his bare skin. “I don’t understand. I’m a whore. I’m good—very good—at one thing, and only one thing: fucking.” He casually set his mug on the table, his instincts driving him to be ready. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his robe, fingers wrapping around the small object he was glad he’d secreted there while Undertaker was in the shower.

The man chuckled, though his eyes glowed with an eerie light as he said, “Ah, but we both know that’s only one of your many talents. Right, _Sebastian_?”

 

* * *

 

Within seconds, Sebastian had leapt to the other couch, kneeling on Undertaker’s chest, one hand pinning the man’s wrists while the other held the open switchblade from his robe pocket to the long-haired man’s throat. “Who the fuck are you?”

Undertaker chuckled, seemingly unfazed by his precarious position. “See? Talented.”

“Who. The fuck. Are. You?” Sebastian repeated, fury and threat in his red eyes, the knife pressing in just enough a fine trickle of blood escaped and slid down Undertaker’s throat.

“But who you are is so much more interesting. Li.”

Sebastian growled at the sound of his real surname, one not even Joker knew. He had to use all his control not to slit Undertaker’s throat, as the man was either extremely foolish or very clever, leaving Sebastian with far more questions than answers. “Start telling me useful information or I start adding to your scar collection. And I can be _very_ good at keeping that game going as long as necessary.”

“I’m not your enemy,” Undertaker said calmly, like Sebastian hadn’t just threatened to torture him. “But we do have one in common.”

Sebastian relaxed just enough to indicate he was listening. “Who?”

Undertaker grinned. “Lau.”

 

* * *

 

Sebastian felt the blood drain from his face. Like Li, Lau was a name Sebastian had hoped to never hear again. “How . . . ?”

“As kinky as this is, if we’re going to talk, I’d prefer to do it without a blade to my throat.”

Sebastian grunted but relented, climbing off and retreating to his previous spot, never once turning his back on Undertaker. “Fine. But know I’m deadly accurate with a knife from across a room, even if it wasn’t designed to be thrown.”

Undertaker chuckled as he shifted so he was sitting again, rubbing his chest, using a tissue to dab at the blood at his neck, stretching his legs and crossing and uncrossing them as if stalling.

“How do you know me? How do you know Lau?”

“So curious, but you aren’t asking the right questions,” Undertaker said as he giggled as if this entire scenario were amusing. The man was obviously bonkers, but crazy could be far more dangerous than sane, and crazy with sensitive information even more so.

“I’m regretting not killing you.”

“Are you? Really?” Undertaker leaned forward, elbow on his knee, hand supporting his head, long finger resting against his cheek. His hair fell around him like a cloak. His eerie green eyes gleamed. “Seven years ago, you helped chase Lau out of Houston and end his child sex trafficking ring.”

“But he got away, like the snake he is,” Sebastian hissed. “And how do you know all this? You haven’t told me anything new.”

Undertaker rose in a surprisingly elegant motion and crossed to Sebastian, unafraid despite the knife and menace in those red eyes. He leaned in, licking the shell of the escort’s ear.

Sebastian stiffened, adjusted his grip on the knife, bracing his free hand so he would be able to use it for the added momentum if he needed to strike. But he didn’t fight his client’s touch. Suspicious or not, dangerous or not, this man had paid for Sebastian’s body. And keeping him in a good mood might be the only way he’d give up information.

“I can help you protect Ciel,” Undertaker whispered.

Sebastian felt a chill shoot up his spine. Undertaker knew too much, including Sebastian’s identities and how much Ciel meant to him. “Why do I need your help?”

Undertaker grinned, sliding a hand under Sebastian’s robe to stroke the skin of his hip and cup his ass. “Because Lau is back,” Undertaker whispered. “He’s trafficking kids again.” One of Undertaker’s nails bumped over the small dragon brand at the base of Sebastian’s spine. Sebastian had covered it with a tattoo of a devil’s tail, but short of cutting out that patch of skin, he would never be rid of it for as long as he lived. “And he wants revenge.”

 


	4. Burn Together, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're baaaack & ready to fuck shit up!
> 
> Hope you missed this story as much as we did!

Twice a week, every week, Bard and Sebastian did collections, handling the most difficult and highest priority jobs. Hours before sunrise, Bard would pull up in front of the little house in the Heights that Ciel, Finny, and Sebastian shared, waiting for the mahogany-eyed man to stride out and get in the car. Bard always brought the coffee; Sebastian, breakfast. Neither man would say much to the other as Bard pulled away from the curb, heading toward their first destination. Sebastian would pass Bard whatever food he’d made and they’d eat in silence, nothing but the sound of the vehicle’s AC as Bard navigated the as-yet unhurried streets and highways that surrounded the city and divided it into a multifaceted set of chambers, like some organ slashed straight through into a single sheet.

Today, Sebastian had brought homemade breakfast tacos, the filling a perfect blend of egg, cheese, and bacon, the tortillas still warm and the salsa the best Bard had ever had in his entire goddamned life. Bard hadn’t realized he’d been moaning as he devoured taco after taco until Sebastian pulled his favorite side arm, a Glock 40, fully customized, loaded with 10 mm hollow point, and pressed the edge of the barrel to Bard’s temple.

“You sound like a whore, and I would know,” Sebastian drawled.

“You shoot me with that big-ass bullet, blow my fucking brain halfway across the highway, you’ll be as dead as me when this car crashes into the concrete barrier. And nowhere near as quick.”

Sebastian hummed as if he were processing what the older man had said. “Maybe that’s what I want.”

“Crazy mother fucker,” Bard muttered under his breath. “Guess at least I had a great meal before I kick it.”

Sebastian laughed, that creepy fake one that bubbled out of his mouth like the worst sound Bard had ever heard. “Never heard you moan like that, Bard. Always knew I’d make you come someday. Never thought it’d be from my cooking instead of my cock.” The red-eyed man slipped the gun back into his shoulder holster, and Bard realized he hadn’t flipped off the safety or chambered the bullet. A hollow threat. God damn but Luci was a twisted son of a bitch.

“Jesus, Luce, why everything gotta come back ‘round to your dick?”

Sebastian leaned back in his seat, nibbling at his taco, raising an eyebrow at his friend like the answer was obvious. But he offered the bag with the rest of the food to Bard as a peace offering.

“You sure?” the blond asked, realizing the taco Sebastian was polishing off was the only one he’d had.

Sebastian nodded, balling up the foil in his hand and crushing it. As loud and brash as “Luci” could be, Bard had learned Sebastian was as silent as the damned cats he loved.

Not that Bard minded. But he eyed the younger man sideways as long as he safely could, and when Sebastian ignored him to stare out the window, the blond decided to let it go for now. Something was up with the kid if he wasn’t eating or making more jokes about his junk.

“You sure you’re not part Mexican?” Bard asked instead as he chowed down on another taco, salsa oozing from the end and threatening to make a mess, but it was so fucking good he didn’t care.

That made Sebastian turn to look at him, dark eyebrow quirked. “Do I look Mexican?” Sebastian asked in a tone Bard couldn’t identify.

The blond shrugged. “Dunno? Just never met a non-Mexican who’d go out their way to make even the salsa from scratch.”

Sebastian sounded offended when he responded, arms folded tight on his chest, making the muscles in his arm stand out stark against his pale skin. “Tastes better that way. And doesn’t take much more work.”

“But how’d you learn how to make it?”

Sebastian’s gaze was cold for a moment, fleeting, and then it was replaced by Luci’s grin. “There’s this magical thing called the Internet. I know it wasn’t around back in the cavemen days when you were young, but you should try it some time.”

“You’re a fucking cunt, you know that, Luce?” Especially since Bard was only about ten years older. He threw his garbage at his friend as he prepared to exit.

Sebastian just grinned, fingers drumming on the console.

 

* * *

 

Seven years ago, Bard’s life careened abruptly in an unexpected direction, like jerking the steering wheel to avoid a crash after someone suddenly shot across the entire goddamned highway into his lane.

Summoned to the boss’s office, Bard was surprised to find someone he’d never seen before standing in front of Joker’s impressive desk, still as a statue and just as striking. A new whore, Bard guessed. Perhaps his new guard assignment. Tall, slim, and elegant, Chinese, with hair long enough to reach his waist in the darkest black Bard had ever seen, the top separated and tied off in a thin tail. Strange red irises and long lashes above high cheekbones made for an unusual but captivatingly beautiful face.

Lovely enough to be a girl, but his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, and his black pants were so tight Bard could practically tell whether his enormous cock was circumcised or not. The boy wore a fitted black shirt that exposed a sliver of skin at his navel, especially with his arms held as they were, bent behind his back, each hand clasped around the opposite wrist to keep them in place. He stood completely still, silent, almost as if he weren’t breathing, his head angled slightly downward, his gaze directed at the floor. His eyes didn’t even jump when Jumbo, Joker’s colossal personal bodyguard, shut the door behind Bard with a loud clatter.

“Thank you for coming, Bard,” Joker said from his desk chair, leaning back and crossing his legs at the knee. “I’d like you to meet the newest member of our Circus, Lucifer.”

Bard raised his brows at the name, a peculiar one for an escort, but perhaps that explained all the black. The blond stepped forward, offering his hand. “Nice to meetcha. Name’s Bard.”

Sebastian stared at Bard’s outstretched hand as if he’d never seen one before, then glanced over at Joker. Only when Joker nodded did the boy shake, his fingers long and graceful, his nails perfectly manicured as if he’d never done a day’s hard work in his life. He shook lifelessly, removing his hand as soon as possible to return to his military posture.

Bard studied Sebastian, curious, but he wasn’t the only unusual person Bard had met while working for Joker, and the blond wasn’t paid to ask questions. He itched to light the cigarette perched on his ear, but knew it wasn’t the time or the place, so he scratched his head and waited for further instructions.

“Bard, Lucifer will be joining you on collections and select missions, as long as they don’t interfere with his primary role as an information collector.”

Bard nearly choked. The last term was Joker’s euphemism for the whores that used seduction to coerce horny clients into divulging their secrets, or who made sure the cameras caught a good view of their coupling so that Joker could blackmail them later. “A strong wind’ll break this kid in half! How’s he supposed to intimidate anyone? Sex them to death?”

Joker chuckled, then burst into louder laughter.

Lucifer said absolutely nothing. He didn’t seem to react at all. Reminding Bard even more of a statue. Cold and lifeless and dangerously beautiful, but Bard couldn’t see anything beyond that.

Joker quieted, though he was smirking as he waved his hand.

Before Bard could process what the gesture could mean, the boy had moved, hitting the older man hard enough in the gut with his shoulder to stun, grabbing Bard’s leg to unseat his center of gravity, driving him to the floor. The boy’s knee pressed into Bard’s diaphragm with all his weight, keeping the blond man gasping and dizzy, while his hands held both of the larger man’s arms to the ground. Lucifer’s other leg stretched out in a split so that it braced against Bard’s, his foot angled and pressing against his captive’s in an incredible feat of flexibility and strength. Like a coiled spring, the position—one Bard could never hope to replicate—served to both subdue him and give the boy the leverage to move again should the larger man attempt to buck him off. Before Bard could try to escape or at least get the upper hand, the boy hopped off and away, in a swift, graceful movement, reminiscent more of a dancer than a fighter, though his body remained poised should he need to attack again.

“Fuck,” Bard grunted, rubbing his torso, remaining prone since he still couldn’t quite get a full breath. The boy—who looked like he weighed half what Bard did—had managed to disable the seasoned brawler easily, without breaking a sweat. Bard had never seen a technique exactly like that before. He was confident if he’d been prepared and given a chance to continue the fight he would have won, but he had to admit the kid’s appearance was enough to give him an initial advantage, and even without a weapon, Bard had seen the dangerous look in those unsettling red eyes: this boy could and would kill without hesitation.

“Luci has many talents, and I’m sure working with you he will only improve upon the skills he already has,” Joker said with a pleased smile. “He’s a little . . .” Joker hesitated, waving his hand in the air as if struggling to find the right words. “Well, you’ll see. Dismissed.”

Bard nodded and exited when Jumbo opened the door for them. He didn’t like the idea of having his back to the kid, but no matter how he walked, his new charge followed behind him like an obedient puppy heeling for its master, his face betraying nothing. Like an automoton, like his body was moving without his mind, and it was creepy as fuck.

 

* * *

 

 

The second sign something was eating Sebastian came as they stood outside the home of the first name on the list, engulfed in the predawn darkness, humidity sticking to their skin and making them sweat, and Sebastian didn’t once mention their competition. Their job might sound exciting on paper, but collections was mostly an exercise in drudgery and a whole lot of driving, all day, twice a week, every week. The Houston metro area was enormous—over 10,000 square miles—and Joker’s power extended to every far-flung corner of it.

Most people weren’t stupid enough not to pay simply because of Sebastian’s (Luci’s) reputation—he was a demon, after all—and fewer still remained stubborn after a warning from the tall raven-haired man. Which made Bard and Luci glorified mailmen with weapons. So every collections day, no matter how many times Bard told him no, that he was a crazy mother fucker, Sebastian would propose a competition for who could be the most creative getting someone to pay up or piss them off enough to ask the boss for the green light to terminate.

But not today.

Sebastian was silent as he held the flashlight so Bard could deactivate the house alarm and pick the lock. Aleistor Chamber, their first visit of the day, lived in what was once a posh Memorial mansion, but with a significant portion of his funds ending up in Joker’s pockets each month, the post-Harvey renovations to repair the flood damage had stalled, leaving the first floor a half-finished mess of gutted walls and construction equipment.

Concentrating on his work, Bard found it worrisome that Sebastian was being patient. Normally by now he’d insist they simply break in, not wanting to wait. Despite being even more proficient at lock picking than Bard, Sebastian—or rather, Luci—simply didn’t have the patience for it. Subtlety was not Luci’s motto.

“This is ridiculous,” Sebastian grumbled. “Every fucking month. Joker should add a key to the tab already. Would save so much time.”

Sebastian’s comment made Bard grin, easing his mind somewhat. “You can’t kill him. He’s one of Joker’s cash cows, don’t forget.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but said nothing as they snuck into the house soundlessly, their black clothes blending into the darkness, easily finding their way up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Chamber had an affinity for white, everything in the room a mockery of purity, including the oversized king bed where the man slept, stupidly oblivious to the presence on either side of him.

Bard nodded to signal Sebastian could do the honors, and the man grinned devilishly, reaching over and grabbing Chamber by his long platinum-blond hair, dragging the mostly naked man out of bed just as Bard hit the switch, light filling the room and bouncing blindingly over every pale surface, causing the unprepared Chamber to cry out and squeeze his eyes shut tight, fingers uselessly trying to pry Sebastian’s from his scalp.

“Morning, Al. Did you miss me?”

“Of course, little raven.” 

Bard winced. He was convinced by now despite his education and position, Chamber was a moron. Because only an idiot goaded Luci.

Sebastian snarled at the nickname and threw Chamber into the wall.

The man hit hard enough to send a framed picture crashing to the floor beside him, and he sank into a heap, whimpering.

Sebastian strode over to the man and put his foot on Chamber’s head, pushing him into the wall. “Where’s the money? I’m asking nicely.” And he was. He had yet to draw a weapon, his favorite pistol resting against his ribs in its holster and several knives strapped to his legs, some visible and some hidden. Chambers was still in one piece. Not even bleeding yet.

“I don’t have it.”

Sebastian pressed harder, his boot leaving an imprint on the man’s fair skin, his pale hair tangled and standing up from where it had been grabbed. “Not the answer I want to hear, Al. You know what happens if you don’t pay, right?”

Bard lit a cigarette, smirking at the way Chamber’s face reddened at the idea of the smell corrupting the purity of his room, an amusing thought considering what he was being blackmailed for.

“First, I get to play with you,” Sebastian sneered, the tips of his sharp canines catching the light, his red eyes seeming to glow. “And then the entire state can find out the chairman of the board of Children’s Hospital likes fucking underage boys.”

Bard took a long drag of his smoke, smirking. Joker didn’t let anyone who wasn’t legal work as an escort, but he did have several young people of both sexes who could easily pass as jailbait. The man Joker had Chamber on camera with was actually 20, which made the extortion even better, because it was a bluff.

Sebastian kicked Chamber in the chest, shoving him to the floor with a single boot. He leaned in, putting his weight on the man’s sternum. “Dr. Chamber, I bet you could tell me how long the recovery is for a broken breast bone.”

Chamber wheezed. “I told you: I don’t have the money.”

“Do you know,” Sebastian said coolly, bending his knee and leaning on it casually as if he weren’t using Chamber as a step, “that Joker has several journalists in his pocket, so while he doesn’t get as much from leaking stories as he does from blackmail, he profits either way? I wonder what the _Chron_ headline will read in a few hours. ‘Children’s Chair Loves Kids Too Much’?”

Bard snickered. He purposefully tapped the ash of his cigarette on the pristine white carpet, putting the butt out on the bottom of his shoe and pocketing it so they wouldn’t leave behind any evidence. He checked his watch. “We got a schedule, Luce.”

Sebastian growled but nodded. In a swift movement, his foot moved from Chamber’s chest to crash down on the man’s nose with a sickening crunch.

Aliestor howled in pain, cradling his face with his hands as blood slid down his cheek to the floor, staining the fibers.

Sebastian wiped his boot on the carpet to Chamber’s horror and bent low, leaning in until his nose nearly brushed the top of the man’s hand. “Might want to call your plastic surgeon when we leave if you want to keep your pretty, pretty face. That’s a nasty break. Not gonna heal well. Get it? _Heel_?” Sebastian burst into laughter at his stupid joke, glancing over to see if his companion found it nearly as humorous.

Bard just sighed and rolled his eyes, shoving another cigarette in his mouth, unlit.

“Can I castrate him, Bard? Please?”

Bard sighed. “Not until I call the boss and find out how he wants to handle this. Not gonna be pleased being woken up at this hour. Probably put him in a real bad mood.” He cast a telling glance at Chamber, another reminder that he better pay up, or his career wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be losing.

Sebastian pulled his large Bowie knife from the holster on his thigh and sank down until he was straddling Chamber’s legs. He cut the whimpering man’s underwear off with ease and frowned. “Might need a smaller knife for such a tiny job. This why you like kids? Even the tightest adult virgin ass not tight enough for something so . . .” Sebastian sank his knife into the ground just beneath Chambers’s balls, making the man jerk and tremble. “Hey, Bard, what’s another word for ‘tiny’?”

Bard had his phone out as if he were dialing the boss. He shrugged as he pressed it to his ear.

“Ask Joker.” Sebastian had his index finger on the top of the blade’s handle, gently nudging it from side to side, grinning at how it made Chambers sob harder, his nose still bleeding.

“OK, OK!”

Bard hung up, disconnecting the call to his favorite pizza place, eyebrow raised.

“My dr—drawer. Dress—dresser,” Chamber stuttered. He pulled a hand from his face to point, his nose, eyes, and cheeks already bruising.

Bard leveled a hard look at Sebastian to warn him to behave, only moving once he saw the man take his hand off the knife and sink back onto his haunches, sulking. Nothing got Luci going more than someone who abused children, making him even more dangerous than normal.

Bard crossed the room, pulling the first drawer out and dumping its contents on the floor before tossing it aside. His nose turned up at the vast assortment of dildos, vibrators, buttplugs, and other sex toys, grateful he was wearing gloves. He was about to try the next drawer when he spotted an envelope taped to the back of the cabinet. He leaned in, prying it off. When he opened it, he saw a row of crisp $100 bills, more than enough for the month’s payment. He fanned them with his thumb to show Sebastian, who sighed loudly, yanking his knife from the floor in such a way he drew a thin line of blood from Chamber’s scrotum, but otherwise caused no further harm.

Bard pocketed the money. “Was that so difficult? Coulda saved yourself a lot of pain if you’d just given us the money from the start.”

Sebastian slid his knife in its scabbard and stood, kicking Chamber for good measure. “Should’ve let me cut his balls off.” He pouted, but made for the door anyway.

“Maybe next month,” Bard said, patting Sebastian’s shoulder, casting a warning glare Chamber’s way, suggesting next time he might not be able to hold Luci back.

 

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	5. Burn Together, Part II

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The kid didn’t say a goddamned word.

Nothing. Their very first day working together, and he was as silent as friggin’ monk.

He stayed tight lipped the entire long-ass drive from the Memorial area in the heart of the city where Joker’s headquarters, the Noah’s Ark hotel was to some locale in BFE far north of the outer suburbs. Why Joker had even sent them so far bewildered Bard, but perhaps, with the kid, he’d decided to switch things up. Or maybe he just delighted in knowing Bard would hate the long, awkwardly silent drive.

After thirty minutes of failed attempts to elicit some, _any_ reaction from the creepy young man riding shotgun, Bard decided to try Spanish. “ _Hablo español?_ ” It sounded more like, “Ha-blow es-pan-ole,” and his verb conjugation was wrong, but he didn’t know that.

Nothing.

“ _Me comprende?_ ” Again, the Spanish was totally broken and his East Texas accent was so strong he was almost unintelligible.

Still nothing.

Bard sighed. Lit a cigarette and smoked it in the suffocating silence. He’d study the kid beside him with a side glance whenever he could. The boy sat like some ancient statue, hands on his knees, back straight, that long hair flowing over his shoulders, eyes directly ahead. He barely even breathed.

Bard tossed his cigarette butt out the window and took a deep breath. “You come with a manual or something?”

Still goddamned _nothing_.

“Fucking Joker,” Bard grumbled as he stuffed another cigarette in his mouth. “Stick me with some mute robot who only understands Chinese.” He stretched and turned on the radio. When Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” filtered through the speakers, Bard grinned hugely. “Now Metallica’s a language everybody gets. Everyone loves Metallica. Right?” He glanced over at the kid, who—no surprise—didn’t react.

Bard sighed. There were not enough cigarettes in the world to make working with this robot tolerable. So Bard chose to pretend he was alone in the car, bobbing his head and singing along to the classic rock station as they neared their destination.

Their target lived in one of those shitty subdivisions that blossomed all over north Houston like fungi growing out of a corpse. Definitely not the normal collections Bard did, he thought as he pulled into the development. But Joker had his hands in many wallets all over the metro area, from those with only a few pennies to the deepest pockets. Probably figured with the kid, send them some simpler jobs to make training easier.

Bard rounded the block a few times, assessing the property. An unassuming, if a little rundown cookie-cutter two-story suburban house with a wood fence separating its small yard from its neighbors. The target was home, at least, his truck in the driveway and an upstairs light on.

Finally, Bard parked on a side street a block away, unsurprised when the kid followed him like a puppy, eerily silent. At this point, Bard was convinced he didn’t even understand English, so he relied on gestures. Better for infiltration, anyway, and the kid was perceptive and obeyed Bard’s orders without hesitation.

They slinked through the shadows toward the house. The developer had cut corners and only installed a streetlight at the entrance to the subdivision, making the task easier. Bard snuck to the gate on the side of the property, cutting the lock with a small bolt cutter. He listened for the sound of a dog stirring on the other side of the fence, his hand in his pocket, ready to toss some jerky to distract the pooch, which he kept there for the purpose. He held his pistol in his other hand, fingers resting on the trigger guard, safety off, ready to shoot. Bard hated hurting dogs, avoided it whenever he could.

He met the kid’s gaze, signaling toward the house. Once the kid indicated with a slight nod that he understood, Bard kicked the gate open with his foot, poised, scanning the dark, overgrown yard for signs of a threat, relaxing when it was empty. They clung to the shadows along the back face of the building until they reached the porch. A large window overlooked the yard, the blinds up. With no light on inside, it was difficult for Bard to get a good sense of what awaited behind the glass. But the two interlopers did have an advantage: the guy they’d come to collect from wouldn’t be able to see them either. Based on the condition of the property—patchy clumps of yellowing grass, mold growing on the siding, fence boards warped and curling up at the bottom—it was unlikely their target had an expensive night sight. Giving Bard and the kid an advantage. Once their guy flipped the switch, the darkness outside would be further obscured while he was illuimated for a quick shot through the window, if necessary.

Normally, Bard itched for a fight, but it was in his interest not to start one here, not with so many neighbors and the houses so closely grouped together. And with the wildcat that was Luci the robot, he’d prefer not to take any chances. The kid had a goddamned sword strapped to his back, for chrissake. Going into battle like a friggin’ ninja with throwing knives and that Japanese sword and that long hair, darker than ink.

They reached the back door, approaching cautiously. It was the kind with a half window, so Bard was debating breaking the glass to save time when he checked the knob. He actually managed a choked laugh. Unlocked. Clearly, this man hadn’t been under Joker’s thumb long.

Bard and the kid entered quietly, working surprisingly seamlessly despite this being their first job together, clearing room by room of the first floor: living, dining, kitchen, laundry, before heading upstairs.

A light at the end of the hall guided them to their destination. Again, with a signal, Bard indicated for the kid to wait on the opposite side of the partially open door. He readied his pistol and noticed the kid did not reach for a knife or his sword. He’d seen first hand what the kid was capable of, so he ignored it. Nodded, then pushed the door open.

Inside, the target had his back to them, half dressed, a shirt laid out on the bed like he was getting ready for work. He didn’t notice the interlopers sneaking in behind him. When he finally happened to turn around, he shrieked and panicked. He wasn’t armed. Didn’t even have a baseball bat. Was this job a total joke?

The man’s eyes went wide with terror when he saw the kid, rambling in rapid Spanish that Bard’s unattuned ears could only pick up bits and pieces of. Something about the devil, and what sounded like a prayer.

“Look, just give us the money, and we’ll go.”

The man’s head shot over to Bard, though his gaze rapidly returned to the kid. He backed up toward the wall, and Bard was almost certain if the window next to him had been open he might have jumped.

“Money? El money-o? Uh, shit,” Bard didn’t want to shift his pistol away from the target, but damn did he want to light a cigarette right now. “ _El dinero_?” His accent thick, over articulating each syllable, “dee-ner-oh.” “For El Señor Joker?”

The man stared at them with the proverbial deer-in-headlights blankness.

Bard sighed, was ready to grab the guy and explain things with his fists when the kid took over.

Moving in a flash, the kid used his forearm in the guy’s throat to slam him against the wall, knocking out the man’s breath and leaving him gasping and struggling vainly against Sebastian’s hold. The kid smiled the most terrifying grin Bard had ever seen. It somehow managed to be sweet, seductive, and menacing all in one. And his unusual red eyes seemed to glow. He was talking—so the fucker _could_ speak!—in quiet, rapid Spanish, soft but undoubtedly threatening, words flowing without hesitation. Bard was part stunned, part impressed, and part pissed. He’d fucking tried Spanish a friggin’ hour ago!

The longer the kid spoke in that voice, the paler and paler the man became. Without drawing a weapon, without barely even subduing their target, he was striking dead, cold fear into that man’s heart. What the fuck was he saying?!

Right when the target looked ready to pass out from fear, the kid released him and headed for the bed, effortlessly tossing the mattress aside and retrieving an envelope from a hole cut into the boxspring. Without standing, he tossed it to Bard, who caught it easily, a quick glance revealing it had more than enough to cover this month’s payment.

The man regained his wits (or maybe they’d taken leave of him completely), and he stepped forward, arm extended as if he were going to yank the katana from its scabbard on Sebastian’s back.

Before Bard could shout a warning or aim his gun, the kid moved, shifting to one leg, twisting his body in a high roundhouse kick straight to the target’s head, who crumpled to the floor, instantly unconscious.

“Fuck me,” Bard murmured in awe.

The kid stood up calmly and approached in his robotic way before dropping to his knees in front of Bard and reaching up to undo the belt. He had one hand in the older man’s pants by the time Bard’s brain stopped short circuiting long enough to push the kid away. Maybe he _did_ understand some English, but not enough to realize Bard hadn’t meant what he’d said literally?

“No, kid. Jeez.” 

The kid kept pawing at Bard, trying to touch his junk, eyes eerily blank. Even this was an automatic, mechanical action.

“Damn, kid.” Bard sighed. He stepped back, creating a gap between them, hurriedly zipping his fly and redoing his belt. “We’re done here. _Terminado?_ ” Bard added in his strongly accented Spanish.

The kid looked crushed and confused. “Master instructed me to assist you in anything you may need,” he said woodenly, in perfect fucking English. “Do you not find me desirable?” His demeanor changed, almost like pulling a curtain away, as he leaned back, tugging his shirt up with his palm as he guided his hand along his toned stomach, his other fingers sliding into his mouth, gazing up at Bard through long, thick feminine lashes.

Bard felt a knot form low in his gut, and he struggled to swallow. Did the kid mean Joker when he said “master,” and was he for real right now? No doubt he was attractive, but even if Bard were into men—and he definitely wasn’t; he loved tits—the kid was his work partner, and there were some lines he just didn’t cross. “Get up,” he said in a commanding tone. His voice was raspy so he cleared his throat. “We got a schedule.”

Sebastian blinked, momentarily stunned. “I will make you feel good, sir. I will do whatever it is you wish.” He slid his hand into the back of his pants, turning so Bard could see as he spread his legs and tilted his head, moaning as he—fuck, was he fingering himself?

Bard’s trousers suddenly felt too tight, but this was wrong. On so many levels. For one, of age or not, the kid looked exactly like that—just a kid, sixteen or seventeen and no more. For another, something about this whole display felt like Sebastian was a robot executing a program. He might be damned good at it, but the realization hit: the kid was doing this because he thought he _had_ to as part of his job. Bard suddenly felt nauseous. “Stop. Stop right now. I said we’re done. _No más_.”

The kid immediately obeyed, but he didn’t get up.

“Shit, kid. I don’t know what Joker has you doing the rest of the time, but when you’re with me, you’re my partner. My _work_ partner. Keep me from getting stabbed or shot or killed and we’re good. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied obediently, but the confused look never left him.

“And my name is Bard. Not ‘sir,’ just Bard.”

“OK, Bard, sir,” he said with all sincerity, not a hint of snark.

The blond sighed heavily. Lit a cigarette, wondering if Joker would murder him if he shot the kid.

“Please let me pleasure you, sir. If I don’t, my master will be displeased.”

Bard frowned. Everything this kid said sounded like a joke, but it clearly wasn’t. He had half a mind to call Joker right now and demand some answers. No way the man had actually ordered this kid to sexually satisfy Bard. He’d been working for the boss for years and that wasn’t the kind of guy he was. Criminal he might be, but he still had his principles. “We do collections. That’s all. We drop by pricks like this guy here, we get the money they owe the boss, and we move on to the next. That’s it. No sex.”

Still on his knees, Sebastian walked closer. “Please,” he pleaded, palms on Bard’s thighs. “Please let me do my job.”

Fuck. The kid was . . . scared. Was he afraid Joker would chuck him out if he didn’t whore himself out to Bard? The older man took a deep breath, crouched so they were more at eye level. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a skilled fighter. _That’s_ our job. We collect the money, rough people up who don’t want to pay, that’s it. As long as the cashbox is full at the end of the day and no one’s dead who shouldn’t be, Joker will be happy.” He patted the kid on the head and offered him an encouraging smile. “You did good today. You intimidated the target, got the money, and disabled him when he attacked, all on your own without drawing a weapon.”

The kid looked incredulous for a moment, and Bard realized the young man was far more expressive than his initial impression conveyed. And then he smiled. Not that creepy one he’d flashed at the target earlier, but a full, happy grin that reminded Bard his new partner might be an adult, but he was very much still a kid.

 

* * *

 

Bard and Sebastian stepped out of their borrowed Porsche convertible into the hot, bright Houston afternoon. Joker had lent them the vehicle for this very important mission on pain of death should anything happen to the car.

Bard smoothed a hand over his scar. Starting at the top of his left elbow, the jagged line curved around along the full length of the underside of his forearm. Thick and puckered, pink in places and paler in others, it was a reminder Bard often wished he could erase. Violet had offered to cover it with a tattoo, but Bard didn’t feel he deserved for it to be hidden. Fate had marked him so that he could never, ever forget what he’d done.

“Bard?” Sebastian asked as he crossed around to the other side of the vehicle.

He cracked his neck and snatched the overpriced jacket Sebastian had insisted he wear. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.” He grabbed the borrowed Rolex from the pocket (another thing from Joker’s collection he would face brutal torture for losing or damaging) and snapped it onto his wrist, where it covered the tiny Roman numeral tattoo of his code number he had there, “XVI.” All initiated Circus members had one, all the same size and in the same place, of their tarot arcana number or code name (a color or animal), depending on where they were in the hierarchy. Sebastian almost always covered his “XV” tattoo with makeup when he was working--including now--but Bard had threatened serious bodily injury if Sebastian came anywhere near him with foundation or concealer. His watch did a fine job, and Violet’s work was small enough most people didn’t notice it anyway.

Bard pulled the blazer on, ensuring his shoulder harness and pistol were properly concealed, while Sebastian fussed over the older man’s appearance, artfully mussing the short blond strands until he was satisfied. “Starting to think you’re doing this to piss me off,” Bard grumbled.

Sebastian flashed a smile. “I just want you to look your best, honey muffin.” Bard had known since their first meeting the dark-haired man was beautiful, but dressed as he was now, in character as the flamboyant husband “Yuki,” he was stunning. He’d styled his chaotic raven hair so it was slicked back, some of his bangs tucked behind his ears, some falling artfully over his face. Bard didn’t know anything about makeup, but he wondered if the other man had put some on, because for some reason his garnet eyes and long lashes stood out more than normal. He wore leather pants that he must have poured himself into and made Bard sweat in more than one way just looking at them as they left absolutely nothing to the imagination, tightly framing Sebastian’s butt and package. To add to the alluring outfit, he wore a blood-red shirt that Sebastian had explained was a gift from one of his regulars and far too expensive for him to wear otherwise. Buttoned only in the middle, it revealed both his waxed chest and his diamond navel piercing that drew attention to those sinful pants whenever it caught the light.

Sebastian had also spruced up Bard’s ensemble, shoving him into uncomfortable designer jeans—who the hell knew such a thing existed? what the hell was wrong with Wranglers?—and a fitted T-shirt with the name of some brand he’d never heard of emblazoned on it. A dark brown, distressed leather blazer and crocodile-skin boots rounded out the package. Bard felt ridiculous, and had spent the entire drive to the dealership complaining.

“Got the ring?” Sebastian asked, flashing his left hand, showing off the modern, black gold ring set with a row of square rubies, with a larger one in the center. Apparently, another gift from the same regular.

Bard groaned as he showed off his own hand, on which he’d barely managed to squeeze the matching ring, also black but with only the single larger ruby in the center. “Don’t know how the fuck I’m going to get this off again,” he grumbled.

“Then you can wear it forever and think of me,” Sebastian purred, then winked. “Don’t worry: I always carry lube, and once your fingers are all slicked up, I’m sure we can find something else to do with them.” He flashed his sharp canines in a feral grin. “Now, should we go, my love pumpkin?”

Bard grumbled but said nothing, offering his arm for Sebastian to slip his into as they strolled into the building.

 

* * *

 [](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/burn-together-2.png-small.png)

 

The Mercedes dealership building was impressive, modern and blindingly white, with high ceilings and enormous glass windows that allowed the bright Houston sun to stream through, highlighting the expensive cars parked around the showroom. From large SUVs to the sleekest and most expensive sedans.

“Just follow my lead,” Sebastian whispered as they entered and he slipped his hand into one of Bard’s back pockets, making the blond jolt. “Oh my god, sweetie cupcake, do you see this one?” Sebastian said in a voice Bard had never heard from the man, higher, brighter, bubbly. The kind of voice Bard would probably shoot someone for just to shut them up. He tugged Bard toward one of the cars, a red convertible with an extended hood, slipping away from him only long enough to stroke his hand all along the chassis as if it were a lover. “I want this one!” he whined. Actually fucking _whined._ Like he was a five-year old in a toy store.

Bard had to withhold a snort. Swallowed, smiled as sweetly as he could, and replied, “I told you you could have whatever you want, my little marshmallow.”

Sebastian giggled, as if he were delighted, but Bard recognized the mischievous glint in his eye. He was enjoying this. He opened the driver’s door, but instead of getting in, he waved for Bard to sit.

Bard gave him a look, but with a sigh, obeyed. Damn, but the seat was comfortable. Nicer than Joker’s Porsche, and from the price tag, far, far out of his budget. Not that a flashy car like this was really Bard’s style anyway.

Then, to Bard’s horror, Sebastian saddled in too, perching on Bard’s lap like it was a throne, bracing himself on the steering wheel and pressing his ass into Bard’s crotch. “Oooh, this is _nice_ ,” he said in that “Yuki” voice but with an underlying purr that was all Luci. He leaned toward Bard so that his back was pressed to the older man’s chest, and maneuvered the blond’s arms so that they were wrapped around his waist. Then, Sebastian arched so his lips brushed Bard’s ear. His voice was pure Luci. “Wouldn’t you want to fuck me like this?”

Bard’s pants suddenly felt too tight, but it was simply these stupid, stiff jeans Sebastian had insisted he wear. “Luce,” he said in warning.

“You mean, ‘Yuki,’” Sebastian giggled in that annoying feigned voice.

Bard was about to say something when a salesman approached. “May I help you gentlemen with anything?”

Bard was half afraid Sebastian was going to say something sexual, like inviting the man to a threeway in the car, but instead he linked the fingers of his left hand with Bard’s and held both their arms up to show off their rings. “It’s our anniversary, and Bradley said we could get matching cars. Isn’t that _soo_ romantic?” Sebastian giggled, kissed Bard’s temple, and then laid their linked hands on his stomach.

Bard forced another smile he hoped looked besotted and not constipated. “What’s money if I can’t spend it on my little cuddle demon?” Bard brought their linked hands to his mouth and kissed Sebastian’s fingers, making sure to keep his eyes locked on the salesman. “Is this the most expensive convertible you have? Because my precious dumpling deserves only the best.”

The salesperson smiled awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable.

Fortunately for him, he was relieved by another man who strode forward to intercept. He was young, about Sebastian’s age, just shy of thirty, tall and handsome with light hair, and unlike the peon in the polo who’d approached them, was wearing a blazer and slacks and what looked like expensive leather shoes. Bard recognized him immediately from the photo Joker had given them: their target, the man who owned the dealership, Derrick Arden. He came from a ridiculously wealthy Houston family and was a bit of a black sheep. Even though his parents had given him this dealership to run to keep him out of trouble, he’d still gotten entangled with Joker, and now Bard and Sebastian were here to make sure he paid up so Mommy and Daddy and the rest of the family wouldn’t know exactly what kind of deviant shit the kid was into. “This car here actually comes in two models. If you’d like to come with me to my office, I can show you some more info, pull up some specs, see what we have in stock, that kind of thing.”

Bard grinned. “What do you think, snuggle muffin?”

“I think I’d love to go back to Mr. Arden’s office and have a nice little chat.”

 

* * *

 

Sebastian linked arms with Bard, pressing himself (unnecessarily) close as they followed Arden through the dealership, past the cubicles the peons had for offices toward the far end of the building. As they walked, Sebastian, in full Yuki mode, giggled and spoke loud enough for Arden to hear about how excited he was and could he get this customized and that customized and _oh! We have to have matching license plates, pookie dear!_  

Bard didn’t miss how Arden occasionally glanced back, ensuring his customers his office wasn’t far, or the complete look of dismissal in his eyes whenever his gaze landed on Sebastian. Clearly, the man couldn’t see beyond the facade of “Yuki” to the extremely dangerous assassin beneath, just as Sebastian had intended. Bard’s smile, which he pretended was for his darling husband, was in fact a grin of anticipation at the satisfaction the two of them would have once they finally arrived at their destination and the curtain was yanked away.

At the far back wall of the massive dealership was a large waiting area with snacks, coffee, and a TV, and nearby were more offices. Arden led them to the largest one, which, to Bard’s delight, was also at the far end of the hall and fairly isolated. Perfect. Even better, it only had one wall of glass that was visible from inside the building, making it easier for them to work in private.

Arden was going on about the model car Bradley and Yuki were supposedly interested in, something about horsepower and how fast it could accelerate, but Bard was busy carefully studying his surroundings. Once they were inside the office, he and Sebastian had to work fast—and quietly—so as not to arouse suspicion or draw spectators.

Once they were only a few feet away, Sebastian broke away from Bard and snuggled up to Arden, snaking his arm around the other man’s waist like he was a lover, almost leaning on his shoulder. It made the target stiffen. But Bard saw it for the signal it was: Sebastian would distract and subdue Arden while Bard secured the door and windows.

“You just know _sooo_ much about cars, it’s just sooo amazing,” Sebastian said in Yuki’s cooing voice, his chin practically resting on Arden’s shoulder. If the man noticed that each time he tried to pull away Sebastian tightened his hold, it didn’t show. “I get so confused about all the numbers and stuff. I’m sure you could explain it to me?” Sebastian actually blinked up at Arden, which was impressive considering Sebastian was actually taller, and Arden swallowed thickly, Yuki obviously putting him on edge. To his credit, when Sebastian went full seduction mode, it was very difficult _not_ to get flustered, and Bard had been working with the man for years.

Arden chuckled nervously, cleared his throat. “Of course. I have some brochures I can show you, with pictures.” It was condescending as fuck. And Bard was sure Sebastian knew it.

But of course, as Yuki, he just smiled and held Arden closer. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what you have to tell me.”

Bard nearly snorted, knowing very well Sebastian wasn’t talking about cars.

They entered the office, and Bard noted the door was the commercial kind with a door closer mounted to the inner wall above it. While Sebastian guided Arden toward a bookshelf several feet away, feigning excitement over what colors they could pick for the seats, dash, and chassis, Bard went to work. He pulled a small collapsable screwdriver from his pocket and quickly unscrewed the closer and the door hinges, making escape difficult, if not impossible. Then he busied himself drawing the blinds on the hallway-facing wall and door, noticing the ones on the exterior windows were also shut, probably to block the intense heat from the Houston summer sun. Perfect. Bard grinned, and as a final touch, flipped the light switch, shrouding the office in darkness.

Arden let out a strangled sound as he hit the desk, hard, chest pressed against the surface, Sebastian behind him, holding him down almost as if he were fucking him. Bard’s eyes had already adjusted to the dark, so he was able to see his partner’s grin of satisfaction as he leaned in to whisper in Arden’s ear. “We’re going to have sooo much fun,” he said in his normal voice, although Bard didn’t miss the likely purposeful use of Yuki’s manner of speech.

Bard helped by tugging on every cable he saw, pulling and tearing them loose, handing some to Sebastian who tied Arden’s wrists while Bard handled his ankles.

Once he was secure, Sebasitan yanked the man up by his neck and forced Arden to look at him. “Do you know who I am now?”

Arden swallowed. “You’re insane.”

Bard didn’t contain his laugh. He hopped onto the desk and slid over it to the other side, settling into Arden’s extremely comfortable chair, which felt like it might have been modeled after the captain's seat in one of their vehicles. He pulled his gun from the holster when he noticed Arden might cause some trouble, simply as a precaution.

When Arden saw the gun, and then the deadly look in Sebastian’s eyes, he paled. “What do you want? Money? I’ll give you any vehicle in the fleet!”

Sebastian laughed, that chilling “Luci” laugh that scared the shit even out of Bard. “Yes, we want money. But that’s not _really_ why we’re here.” He threw Arden to the floor hard enough the man let out a choked sound as the air was forced from his lungs, followed by a groan as he rolled onto his side.

Bard watched as Sebastian pushed Arden with a single foot so that the man lay prone. “You see,” he said as he stepped over Arden and squatted, guiding the man’s arms above his head before sitting on his waist, just above his crotch, “we’re here because a little birdie told us you’ve been a very naughty boy.” Sebastian grinned, flashing his teeth as he guided his finger from Arden’s chin along his neck and down his chest like he might touch a lover. “Do you know what happens to naughty boys, Derrick?” Sebastian pulled his smaller bowie knife from the holster mounted on his belt, where it had been hidden in the small of his back, covered by his shirt.

[ ](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/crazy-luci.png-photoshop.png-small.png)

Arden’s eyes went wide, paling so much his skin matched the white tiled floor beneath him. “Fuck. You’re Lucifer.”

“He finally figured it out,” Sebastian sing-songed. Single handed, he deftly undid the few secured buttons on his shirt, holding the knife in his teeth and shrugging out of the fabric like he was doing a twisted striptease.

Bard sighed heavy enough to draw Sebastian’s attention.

Sebastian tossed the shirt to Bard and took hold of the knife again. “What? It was a gift. I don’t want to get blood on it.” 

“You just want to be naked,” Bard grumbled. And yet he folded the shirt. Friggin’ thing looked like it cost more than Bard’s gun.

Sebastian grinned, not denying it, and turned back toward his prey. “Naughty, naughty boy.” Sebastian tugged Arden’s shirt out of his pants and teased along the edge with his knife, precariously close to the man’s skin. “You thought you’d report Joker to the authorities so you wouldn’t have to pay him, didn’t you?” Sebastian made the words sound alluring, seductive, like he was offering the guy a blow job instead of moments away from torturing him. “But you see,” Sebastian continued, deftly cutting the man’s shirt from waist to neck, exposing his torso, “Joker’s got his hands in every cop shop in the area. City police. State police. Sheriff. Constable. Even the ISD PDs. If they have a badge, Joker owns them. He’s got people on the take everywhere.” Sebastian leaned forward so they were bare chest to chest, purposefully rubbing his piercings over Arden’s own nipples, licking up the man’s jaw to his ear. “So now I get to play with you.”

Bard spun around in the chair, restless. “Don’t take too long. I’m starving.”

Arden looked like his soul had already left his body. He was wide-eyed, shaking, white as a sheet of office paper, like the one Bard was folding into an airplane.

Without moving away from the terrified man beneath him, Sebastian glanced over at Bard. “Me too, dude.”

“Pizza?” Bard asked as he put the finishing touches on his new toy, pressing the heel of his hand against the paper on the desk to get a good crease.

Sebastian moaned, a truly lude sound that if Bard didn’t know better, he would have thought could only come from someone in the midst of sex. Sebastian traced Arden’s lips with his finger. “Sounds good.”

“But I don’t want any weird shit on it. Get your own damn pizza if you’re gonna put anchovies and pineapple like a friggin’ psycho.”

Sebastian looked affronted as he sat up. “I’m not a psycho,” he said in a pouting voice, clamping his hand over Arden’s chin and mouth to keep him from screaming as he began carving into the man’s exposed chest. “Circus is everywhere,” he said, speaking to the man beneath him, voice menacing.

Arden squirmed and whimpered, tears in his eyes, helpless as Sebastian continued slicing, shallow cuts in two rows.

“The more you move, the more this’ll hurt.”

Bard sent his plane flying toward the two men, and it landed near Arden’s terrified face. Bard rose to retrieve it and noticed Sebastian was nearly done. “‘Naughty Boy,’” he read. “Nice. Your ‘knifemanship’ has gotten better.”

Sebastian smiled proudly, wiped the blood off on the side of Arden’s face, which made the man begin to sob. “You know what they say, practice makes perfect.” Sebastian holstered his knife and stood, staring down at his handiwork for a moment. Then he pressed his boot to Arden’s junk. “Today was a warning. You tell anyone about this, or about Joker and Circus, you fail to pay the boss what he’s due, and we’ll be back. And I won’t be so nice next time.”

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Bard and Sebastian, back in character as the happy couple, strolled toward the dealership exit, the blond leading the dark-haired man like a blushing bride being escorted down the aisle.

“Bard,” Sebastian said in a harsh whisper. “You should totally carry me over the threshold.”

“You would have to be dying for me to carry you.”

Sebastian pouted. “We should get matching cars for real, though.”

Bard sighed. “Like I’d _ever_ get in a vehicle you’re driving.

“Stop being such a fucking killjoy!”

They reached the front doors, and Bard broke their connection so he could be a gentleman and open the door for “Yuki.”

“So you’re not going to carry me?” Sebastian whined in that annoying Yuki voice.

“Fuck off,” Bard said under his breath.

As they walked back to the borrowed Porsche, Sebastian sing-songed, “I’m gonna tell them to put onions on your pizza.”

Bard almost tore the driver’s door off its hinges. “God dammit, I fucking hate onions. You ruin my pizza and I will fucking shoot you.”

 

* * *

 

Bard knocked on Sebastian’s door. He shared a suite in the hotel with the boys, Ciel and Finny, just down the hall from Bard’s own room on the staff floor of the Noah’s Ark hotel. He’d only known the kid a few months, and he was still pretty strange and robotic, but he was one of the best fighters Bard had ever seen, and a surprisingly good “older brother” figure to the boys. Bard still didn’t know what their story was; Sebastian wasn’t mute like he was when they first met, but he was still a man of few words, even fewer when they were about himself. All Bard knew was the three of them had escaped from something bad with a capital “B,” and Sebastian had led a really fucked up life before Joker took him in.

The door opened a moment later. Sebastian stood with his long hair in a high ponytail. He was dressed in all black tac gear, a fitted shirt and pants arrayed with pockets both visible and hidden. His katana was strapped to his back, Bowie knife on one leg and throwing knives on the other thigh, face blank, strange red eyes standing out like forbidden jewels.

“Boys asleep?”

Sebastian nodded, started to step toward Bard to leave.

But Bard held up a hand. “Wait. I got something for you.”

A flicker of surprise, and another emotion Bard wasn’t sure of passed over Sebastian’s face as he allowed Bard to enter.

The suite was larger than Bard’s, with a full kitchen, dining room, living room, and two bedrooms. Bard stopped at the table and set down the bag he’d been carrying, unzipping it, observing how Sebastian watched him with youthful curiosity, reminding Bard of a puppy. It made him smile to see the young man slowly coming to life over the past few months, like a seedling pushing its way through charred wood in a burnt forest.

“I know you’ve got this whole ‘ _Kill Bill’_ vibe going with the hair and the sword, but you can’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

That familiar blank stare. Sebastian didn’t have a goddamned idea what Bard was talking about.

Bard pulled a rectangular plastic case with handles molded from the plastic out of the bag and set it on the table. Next, he undid the latches to open the box. The inside was lined with foam, cut so that the magazines and pistol within rested snuggly in place. Bard extracted the gun, a Glock 40 he’d picked because it had a high-capacity 10mm magazine—a lot of bullets that packed a punch—and the longer barrel meant it was more accurate and the bullet went faster and therefore hit harder. The combination lead to a deadly efficient, powerful and reliable weapon.

Bard checked the slide, making sure the chamber was empty and the safety was on. “You ever shot before?”

Sebastian still had a blank, confused expression but his eyes were bright with curiosity and excitement. He nodded. 

Bard handed him the gun. “You’re not taking this on missions until we spend some time in the range downstairs and I’m confident you know how to handle it without shooting your dick off. Or mine.”

Sebastian accepted the pistol and tested the feel of it, adjusting his grip before lifting it, and closing an eye to aim.

“Never point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot.”

Sebastian looked at him oddly, lowering the gun for a moment before resuming his test, smiling so subtly anyone else may have missed it, but Bard spotted it.

“It’s totally clean, so no worries there. And once you got a feel for it and how you like to shoot, I know a guy. He’ll tweak it to the moon and back.”

Sebastian returned the gun to the case almost reverently. “It’s . . . mine?”

Bard laughed. Slapped Sebastian on the shoulder good naturedly. “Course! Didn’t I tell you you needed a gun? Put a lot of thought into this, so you’d better practice like a demon outta hell in your free time until you’re a better shot than me. Gotta know you got my back, right?”

Sebastian dipped his head, his ponytail splitting at his shoulders and falling around his face and shielding it from view. His breathing escalated, and Bard noticed a fine tremor shook the young man’s body.

“Kid? You OK?”

“A present.” Sebastian’s tone was flat, his expression hidden.

“Yes?”

“For me.” 

“Well, yeah.” Bard scratched the side of his head, wishing he could light up, fingers brushing against the cigarette perched on top of his ear.

Sebastian suddenly dropped to one knee, looking up at Bard in adoration, like a knight pledging fealty to his lord. “I will practice every day. I won’t disappoint you, sir. I promise.”

Bard sighed softly, smiling. He patted the kid’s head. “Told ya already. It’s just Bard. No ‘sir.’ We’re partners.”

 

* * *

 

Bard grumbled as he picked onions off his pizza, too hungry to ask them to make him another, uncontaminated pie. He glanced up and noticed Sebastian was leaning on his hand, elbow on the table, a partially eaten slice of pizza on his plate; almost his entire pie was untouched. On more than one occasion in the past, Bard had returned from the bathroom to find the dark-haired man had devoured not only his own entire pie but half of the blond’s. “OK,” Bard said, slapping his hands together to get the crumbs off. “What gives?”

It took a moment for Sebastian to respond, as if his mind had been far away. “What?”

“What’s the deal with you today?”

Sebastian blinked, then his face shifted and he offered one of his seductive smiles, the kind that made Bard want to shoot him in the face. “I’m fine. You know I’m not used to being awake during the day. I’m dragging. That’s all.”

“Bullshit. You get in a fight with Ciel?”

That got Sebastian’s attention. His eyes narrowed.

“Look, I told the kid he was crazy to want to do info collection, but—”

For a moment, Bard would have guessed the fires of hell burned behind his partner’s eyes. “What?!”

Bard swallowed, realizing he had fucked up—big time. He glanced around the busy restaurant, honestly worried Sebastian might pull a weapon and threaten to kill him right then and there, witnesses be damned.

Sebastian leaned into Bard’s personal space the way he often did to targets, somehow sensual and yet very, very threatening. When he spoke, it was in a dangerous whisper. “I nearly killed Joker the other night because I thought he’d broken his vow and was forcing Ciel into sex work, and now you tell me it was my boyfriend’s idea?!”

Bard raised his hands in surrender, nervously noting how many spectators they had. Why was it sometimes so difficult to maintain a low profile with Luci? “I figured you knew.”

Sebastian’s gaze was intense, as if he were trying to see a lie. Finally satisfied Bard was being truthful, he pulled back. Some of his anger faded, like a mask melting away, and Bard could see how wrecked the man was. “Why did you know but I didn’t?”

Bard wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question, so he answered. “Finny mentioned it during one of our training sessions. I really thought that’s what’s been eating you. I’m sorry.”

Sebastian’s frown bordered on a scowl. “No way in hell I’m letting Ciel whore himself out.”

Bard sighed. Took a bite of pizza. “He’s an adult now, Luce. He can make his own decisions. It’s not for you to ‘allow’ or ‘forbid’ it.” He hesitated, knowing the next thing he said could get him choked to death in the middle of the bustling pizzeria. “You of all people should know what it feels like to be controlled by someone else. You’re not his father; you’re not his master; you’re not his _owner_.”

The fire was back in Sebastian’s eyes. And yet, beneath the fury Bard saw the wounded child that still lingered inside Sebastian’s head. “I don’t care if he wants to shift to working full time for Joker. But not sex work. No way. He’s . . . he’ll get hurt. I promised when I took him that I would always protect him. And I’ll do anything to keep him from descending into my darkness.”

 

* * *

[ ](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/sebaciel.png)

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Sebastian bellowed. His eyes shone like hot coals, almost glowing with rage as he paced tightly around their bedroom as if he were a dangerous caged animal. His anger was so fierce, his fury so palpable, Ciel found himself flinching away in fear from pure instinct. He knew Sebastian hurt people, even killed for Joker all the time without complaint. Ciel had seen the efficiency with which his boyfriend could subdue a man twice his size. But never in the more than seven years that he’d known Sebastian had Ciel ever seen him this furious, and he never had made the smaller man feel anything but safe.

“I just—”

“You just what?”

Ciel cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter. “I just wanted to do my part. I owe Joker too, and I’m not a child anymore. It’s more than past time for me to pay my own debt.”

Both of Sebastian’s hands slid over his face into his hair, pushing his hands up. He never stopped pacing, almost as if he did, he’d explode. “What I do isn’t glamorous, Ciel. Do you not get that? It’s dangerous.”

“Joker isn’t the Green Dragon—”

Sebastian tugged on the strands between his fingers. “No, he’s not. But he’s also not in the room with you and your client. You complain about the marks on me the day after, and those are nothing. _Nothing_ . You have absolutely _no_ idea what a client can do to you if you can’t defend yourself.” Sebastian wrapped one arm around his chest, fingers brushing over his ribs absently.

Ciel placed his hands on his hips, stating proudly, “I’m better with a pistol than you.”

But instead of praising Ciel or even giving him some credit for his skill, Sebastian laughed. A cold, chilling noise the slate-haired man had never heard before. “And, since you’re so clever, Ciel, where are you planning on keeping your pistol when you’re naked, being bent over and fucked? How are you going to defend yourself if your client decides he wants to take you with no lube, no prep, no condom? Or choke you? Tie you up? Beat you? Throw you into the wall? _Kill_ you?”

Ciel felt ashamed to realize how naive he’d been, but he wasn’t entirely ready to admit it. “You could teach me.”

“It took me more than two years of intense training and knowing I wouldn’t survive a second time with a particularly vicious client to be able to kill him. You’re physically weak. Smaller than me. It’s why I trained you to shoot. Because I knew you couldn’t fight the way I do.” Sebastian’s anger had finally begun to ebb, his pacing slowing.

Ciel realized Sebastian had only been upset because he cared. And worried. And, Ciel was forced to admit, even if only to himself, perhaps rightfully so.

Sebastian finally took a seat on the end of their bed and beckoned Ciel to sit in his lap. Once the younger man had settled in, straddling the elder, Sebastian cupped Ciel’s cheeks. “Everything I’ve done in the past seven years I’ve done to protect you and Finny, but especially you, from having to live the kind of life I have. From being hurt.” Sebastian kissed Ciel, tender and chaste. “You already do some of the tech stuff for Joker. That’s more than enough. Don’t let everything I’ve done these past seven years be for nothing. If I lost you . . .” Sebastian’s final words were so soft they were almost inaudible. “I’d have nothing left.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	6. Pleasure, Pain, & Fire, Part I

[ ](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/young-seb2-ps-title.png-small.png)

Screaming.

Sebastian’s ears still echoed with it—his mother’s, and then his own. Large hands gripped him painfully, and no matter how much he squirmed and fought, he couldn’t resist. He wanted to go back. To check on her. She’d fallen to the floor, her eyes staring blankly, not moving, blood pooling. He’d never seen so much of it. The red lingered in his vision, like remnants of light in the dark when he closed his eyes.

The two enormous men carried him through the vast network of halls Sebastian had never seen before, his long hair obscuring his view, giving him only glimpses. An hour before, exploring what lay outside his mother’s room would have delighted his curiosity, but everything had changed. These strange men had hurt her and taken him away.

Finally, they reached a room far more expansive and richly decorated than the one he’d shared with his mother. At one end, a fancy chair, all gold, dominated, and a man dressed in green silk with fancy embroidery sat, flanked by lit braziers.

“ _We’ve done as you ordered, my lord. The woman is dead_ ,” one of the men holding him said in Mandarin, as he bowed and pressed Sebastian to the floor to force him to mimic the gesture.

 _Dead? His mother couldn’t be dead. Dead was for old people and monsters in stories. She was . . . sleeping or something. He just had to get away from these men so he could check._ Sebastian couldn’t see, between his hair and the position, but he heard footsteps as the lord approached. “ _And what is this?_ ”

“ _What she was hiding, my lord_ ,” the other said. The one who had hurt Sebastian’s mother.

“Hmm.” The man wearing green must have given some kind of signal, because the others lifted Sebastian suddenly so that he was kneeling, and someone parted his hair from his face. The tender gesture reminded him of his mother. He tried to yank away, growling.

“ _Careful, my lord. This one bites. Completely feral._ ”

“ _Really?_ ” Despite the warning, the lord tucked loose strands behind Sebastian’s ear. “ _Is that from the mother?_ ”

“ _I’m so sorry, my lord, allow me—”_

Sebastian’s eyes widened in surprise when the man in green slapped the larger one’s hand away.

“ _You will not touch what is mine without my permission._ ” He smiled in a friendly way, and pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, wiping Sebastian’s cheek until the white fabric became red. His mother’s blood.

Sebastian’s eyes welled up, and he sniffled. He wanted to ask about her, but something told him to remain silent.

The lord grabbed Sebastian’s chin and tilted it up, forcing his head from side to side. “ _Stunning. Skin the color of porcelain, smooth and unblemished. Full lips stained with blood, plump cheeks tainted only by tears. Bone structure any artist would salivate over. And such unique eyes. Full of hellfire, like a demon._ ” He brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. “ _Your mother was one of my favorites. But you—you’re a masterpiece. The most beautiful child I may have ever owned._ ”

He strode across the room toward his seat, and retrieved a long stick with a loop on the end. He turned it over, his smile shifting to something frightening. “ _I look forward to taming this beast._ ” He tossed the pole toward his men. “ _Now, I want to inspect my prize._ ”

“ _As you wish, my lord_ ,” they said together. One slipped the loop over Sebastian’s head. In an instant, it had tightened around his neck, choking him just enough he was too busy clawing at it to struggle against the other man, who stripped his clothes from his body.

“ _A boy_ ,” the man in green said, seemingly surprised. “ _I want to get a good look at him._ ”

One of the guards pulled on the pole, forcing Sebastian to his feet if he didn’t want to suffocate. He tried to get his fingers between the loop and his neck, but the tension was too tight, the man too strong. He couldn’t even kick, since he was forced onto his tiptoes to relieve the constriction at his throat.

Sebastian was helpless as the lord circled him hungrily, fingers combing through his hair, soft palms gliding over his skin, bumping over ribs, his stomach, cupping his butt and squeezing a cheek, stroking his legs and even brushing a finger over the parts he had between his legs that were different from his mother, that made him a boy, she’d explained once. Every flinch elicited a chuckle from the man in green as he murmured, “ _Beautiful. Exquisite_ ,” as he explored Sebastian’s body.

Once he seemed satisfied, he stepped back. “ _How old are you?_ ” His voice was commanding, and his eyes were cold.

Sebastian didn’t understand the question, so he bared his teeth. His mother had told him he was a brave boy, and no matter how scared he was right now, he wouldn’t show it to this stranger.

Once again, the man laughed, his smile back, looking almost like the dragons embroidered on his clothes. “ _Don’t know? Or don’t want to say? Perhaps your mother wasn’t as stupid as I had thought. Open his mouth._ ”

Sebastian whimpered in surprise when the pole tugged, angling his head back, while the other man pried his jaws open. He tried to bite, but couldn’t. Not even when the lord reached in and prodded his teeth, attempting to wiggle a few.

“ _You haven’t lost any teeth yet, have you?_ ” The man in green said, although he didn’t seem to care if Sebastian responded. “ _No older than six. No younger than four. I’m impressed a mere whore could keep such a jewel secret for so many years._ ” Another unspoken signal, and the men’s hold on Sebastian eased. The loop was still tight, but he could breathe, and they let him sink to his knees. 

“ _Do you know who I am?_ ” Without waiting for an answer, the lord continued, “ _I am the Green Dragon. Your mother truly was keeping a treasure hidden from me. And dragons love treasure._ ” He walked across the room and retrieved a long metal stick with something attached to one end, and casually held it over the flames of one brazier. The tip of the pole glowed red. “ _Do you understand why your mother had to die?_ ”

Sebastian’s chest heaved with anger and unshed tears. He could still feel her blood on his cheek, and the metallic taste clung to his lips and tongue, even if the man had wiped it away.

“ _She hid a little demon from me. So I killed her. You could say it’s your fault she’s dead._ ” He smiled again, though this time it was anything but friendly and made goosebumps spring up all along Sebastian’s exposed skin. Another unspoken signal and then men holding Sebastian forced him to turn, holding him securely so he couldn’t struggle. “ _I owned your mother—_ ”

Sebastian felt intense heat at the base of his spine.

“ _—and now I own you._ ”

A burning, searing, electric pain lit up Sebastian’s entire lower body, and he screamed. The agony traveled like a spirit from hell along every nerve until it seemed to consume him. Finally, the men released him, and he fell to the floor on his hands and knees, hurting too much to move, sobbing.

“ _Tears are for free men, little demon. You are a slave. You are_ **_mine_ ** _, and you will never escape the dragon’s talons._ ”

 

* * *

 

Sebastian’s eyes snapped open, but rather than the green and gold of the Green Dragon’s chambers, he was met by the cool palette of blues of their bedroom walls and ceiling, which Ciel had chosen for their calming effect. Trembling, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to ignore the phantom pain in his lower spine.

How often had that particular dream plagued him? How many times had he relived the moments after his mother’s death, as if the words were true: he had been ensnared by those talons as a child and could never truly be free. He could no longer remember what his mother looked like except for her hair—long and straight and silky like his, but lighter, more mahogany than ink black—and how she always smelled of jasmine. And yet his owner’s face and voice was forever imprinted in his mind, haunting him far worse than any ghost.

He sat up, cradling his back, fingers brushing over that hated brand. The first light of dawn struggled to penetrate the blinds and stream onto the floor from the windows that were tall enough to walk through, including those that led onto a small balcony. They were a safety risk, but Sebastian hated being enclosed in a dark space, and he knew he could just as easily use them to his advantage against any intruders who would dare attack him and the boys.

Sebastian glanced down and smiled faintly. Ciel lay curled next to him on his side, cradling his pillow, slate hair mussed and long lashes dusting his pale cheeks. Moments like this were rare; Ciel normally needed to work during the day between school and his jobs for Joker, while Sebastian typically saw clients and handled various special jobs at night. Ciel wasn’t innocent or defenseless, no matter what he looked like. He was a grown man, dangerous and accurate with a pistol in either hand, and yet Sebastian knew if Lau were truly back, none of them were safe.

Sebastian had promised Ciel when he’d stolen him away seven years ago that he would always protect him. But what if he couldn’t?

Deciding—as he did all too often—that caffeine was a fine substitute for sleep, Sebastian slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of soft, low-rise, short boxer briefs. Then he crossed the room to their closet, opening it slowly so the door wouldn’t creak. Standing on tiptoe, he stretched to reach the far back until his fingers found a familiar bundle.

 

* * *

 

Humidity clung to Sebastian’s skin as he stepped out onto their balcony into a typical muggy Houston summer morning. Mosquitos buzzed and birds chirped loudly in the nearby trees as the first commuters began their dreary trudge to work. He unwrapped his parcel: an unopened pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He itched to remove the plastic and inhale the aroma of stale tobacco, to light it and smoke, taking it deep into his body and expelling the poison that seemed to dwell within him. It would be a mistake. He knew it. But he could already imagine the calm the nicotine would bring him, fleeting as it was. The craving was so strong he almost gave in, regardless of whether it might trigger Ciel’s asthma.

A creak of floorboards alerted Sebastian, who deftly hid the cigarettes in one of Finny’s numerous planters that decorated the balcony. Seconds later, small arms wrapped around Sebastian’s waist.

“Morning,” Ciel said with a smile in his voice, still tinged with sleep.

“Morning,” Sebastian echoed, cherishing his lover’s hold. He was used to being touched by so many, but only Ciel gave him a high better than any drug. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Ciel’s only response was to kiss along Sebastian’s spine, nuzzling it with his nose.

Sebastian arched into the touch, cradling Ciel’s smaller hand with his much larger one against his stomach.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Some,” he responded after a moment’s hesitation.

Ciel grunted.

“Us ancients don’t need as much rest as you younguns,” Sebastian joked.

Ciel broke away so he could make eye contact and his visible displeasure. “You act like you’re fifty. You’re still in your 20s.” Before Sebastian could make a retort to that, Ciel’s demeanor changed, delicate fingers ghosting over the bruises on the taller man’s hips.

He had to grit his teeth so he wouldn’t hiss when CIel pressed a particularly sore spot.

“Shit. You’re bruised to fuck and back.” Gingerly, Ciel outlined along Sebastian’s hips, back, and shoulders, presumably anywhere he could see black and blue.

Sebastian pulled away, turning to effectively change the subject.

“Fuck.” Ciel’s face paled as he explored the bruising at Sebastian’s neck, each brush making the taller man clench his teeth so as not to reveal how tender the marks were. Next, the scabbed gouges and imprints remaining from Undertaker’s talons that spread across the surface of Sebastian’s abdomen. “What the fuck did that client do to you?” Ciel asked, teeth bared, eyes fierce.

Sebastian sighed. “He had long nails and liked to bite. I’m fine. He was weird as fuck, but you don’t have anything to worry about.” Sebastian did not like to lie when he wasn’t working; his friends and family deserved honesty. But he wasn’t ready to tell anyone about what he’d discovered from the unsettling long-haired man.

“Of course I worry,” Ciel snapped, though he gently held his boyfriend’s waist so he could lean close and press kisses to every visible mark on Sebastian’s stomach, as if he could heal them that way.

Sebastian carded his fingers through the young man’s soft slate locks, which Ciel hadn’t bothered to tie up, massaging his scalp, making his boyfriend purr with pleasure. “Since we’re both up, I’ll make breakfast.”

Ciel rose to his full height to level a scowl at Sebastian.

Offering a reassuring smile, he smoothed his boyfriend’s hair back in place, tucking some stray strands behind his ears. “I’m fine, Ciel. Really. It takes a lot more than a few bruises to break me.”

 

* * *

Finny shifted uneasily, adjusting and readjusting his blazer, not used to his new suit, part of his official uniform now.

Bard, similarly dressed in a blue suit with a wine-red shirt, adjusted Finny’s tie one last time and offered him a supportive smile. “I’m real proud of you, kid. Come on.” He knocked on Joker’s office, and a moment later, Jumbo, the boss’s personal bodyguard, opened it.

“Finny. Welcome. Come in.”

Striding as confidently as he could, he approached Joker’s massive desk and tried not to look as nervous as he felt.

Joker held up a deck of oversized cards. “Do you know what these are?”

Grateful Bard had prepped him on what to expect, he replied without hesitation, “Tarot, sir.”

“Exactly.” Joker shuffled as he spoke. “The tarot is made up of 22 major arcana cards and 56 minor arcana. Everyone initiated into Circus has a code name or number based on the card they choose on their initiation day. The most important members of my staff are all numbered based on the major arcana. The cards I hold in my hand right now. You already know Fifteen, Sixteen, and Seventeen.”

Finny nodded. “The Devil, the Tower, and the Star.” Mr. Sebastian, Bard, and Ciel. His stomach swirled. He had not expected to be chosen for the top ranks, had hoped for the middle, but honestly expected to pick from the lowest tier, who weren’t named after the tarot at all. “Thank you for the honor, sir.”

“Some of the lower ranks believe that the major arcana are my favorites—but I only give this choice to those who truly deserve it because they have skills that make them stand out. You have enormous strength, both physical and mental, and you have shown it over the past months in your training with Sixteen.” With a flourish, Joker spread the cards on his desk, face down, in a circle. “You have earned this choice, Finny. Remember: this is a kind of divination. You don’t pick the card that will become your Circus identity. It selects you.”

Finny cast a glance at Bard, who smiled and nodded approvingly as if to say, _“You got this.”_ He straightened his shoulders and took a few steps nearer, letting his hand hover over the cards. Then he closed his eyes. He thought about everything that he’d lived through before Sebastian rescued him and Ciel—beatings, hunger, neglect—before he finally found a family who cared for him, before he found a place he could belong and contribute to. He focused on the happiness he had discovered, and how he wanted to protect that and the people who were important to him.

A pull, almost like a magnet attracted to another, like a ouija planchette being guided by an unknown force. Ciel would tease him if he mentioned it, but he understood what Joker meant. He obeyed, fingertips gliding over the smooth backing of the cards, bumping over edges until he _knew_ , and stopped.

He opened his eyes.

“Before you flip it, be sure this is the one,” Joker warned.

“I’m sure,” Finny said with true confidence as he revealed his choice. A woman with a lion. The eleventh in the major arcana. Strength. The identity felt _right_ , like sliding on a shirt that had been tailor made, like the swell of emotion that had engulfed him the moment he realized he had finally found a home.

Joker took the card, studied it for a moment, and nodded. “Congratulations, Eleven. You are now formally a full initiate of Circus, and, as a guard, are eligible for unsupervised duty from this moment forward.”

 

* * *

 

Sebastian sat across from Ciel at their kitchen table, using chopsticks to break the yolk of his egg and blend it into the hot rice. But his gaze was on his boyfriend, who was pouring so much syrup on his waffles it was giving Sebastian a vicarious toothache. And yet he smiled.

“What are you grinning for?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You know how much I like having breakfast with you. Sitting down and sharing food with people I care about is something I don’t want to take for granted.”

Ciel rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too, the expression broadening when he sampled his meal. “Speaking of. Where’s Finny? He would love this. You made the whip cream from scratch, didn’t you.” Ciel licked some off his fork in an incredibly sensual and distracting way. “I can taste the vanilla.”

Sebastian shifted as he felt himself harden and dropped his eyes to his own breakfast. “It’s his initiation today. He probably left with Bard just before we woke up. They’ll be back later after he gets his tattoo.”

“Wow, that was today already? I still can’t believe Finny is gonna be a guard. You really think he could kill someone?”

“Anyone can kill, with the right motivation.”

“Says the assassin.”

Sebastian set his chopsticks aside, food mostly untouched. “Killing is really about deciding who’s more important: your target or who you want to protect.” Sebastian shrugged.

Ciel frowned, eyeing Sebastian’s untouched meal. He stretched across the table to brush a thumb over Sebastian’s “XV” tattoo on his left wrist. “You OK?”

Sebastian resisted the urge to pull away. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Not sleeping. Not eating. I know a nightmare woke you up today. I wish you’d talk to me. I’m not a child anymore. I can handle it.”

Sebastian’s fingers curled, but he forced them to relax. He had done everything in his power to keep the details of his past behind him. Partly for his own sanity—maybe if he forgot, it would almost be as if he’d lived a normal life—but also because he feared if Ciel knew too much, he’d stop loving him. He picked up his boyfriend’s hand and kissed Ciel’s tattoo. “So, what are you doing toda—”

“Don’t change the subject,” Ciel snapped, though he let his boyfriend continue to plant soft kisses on his wrist. “I worry about you. Joker’s working you too hard. You should at least ask him for a bigger cut when you see him later.”

Sebastian linked his fingers with Ciel’s. Yet another thing Ciel didn’t know about him, how he’d traded one slaver for another seven years ago. After escaping Lau, Sebastian had agreed to work for Joker in any capacity the man required in order to cover the debt of establishing identities for him, Ciel, and Finny and helping to keep them sheltered from threats both from the Underworld and the authorities. If Lau was really back as Undertaker insisted, Joker’s protection was far more important than any monetary bonus. “I’ll mention it.”

Ciel cast a skeptical glance Sebastian’s way but said nothing, taking another bite of his super-sweet breakfast.

Doing everything to steer clear of his past and the demons in his closet, Sebastian smiled devilishly. “And what if Joker says no?”

Smirking, Ciel swiped his tongue over his lips to clear them of whipped cream, eyes locked on his boyfriend and gaze heated. “Kill him and I’ll take his place.”

 

* * *

 

The bell chimed as Bard and Finny entered the tattoo parlor, the buzz of tattoo guns and Violet’s strange playlist—Queen one minute, Marilyn Manson the next, and a sonata or two in between—greeting them as they walked through the reception area toward the tattoo beds.

Cheslock was nowhere to be seen, and Violet looked like he was putting the finishing touches on a forearm piece of some guy Bard didn’t know. Not in Circus, then. One of Violet’s “street” clients.

“You know the drill,” Violet said as he covered the tattoo. “Wait a day, wash it, pat it dry. Antibacterial ointment twice a day for a couple weeks.” The guy got up without word, though he did cast a glance at Bard and Finny, who were still in their suits.

Violet peeled off his gloves and looked up, smiling. “Finally gonna let me finish that heart on your chest, Bard?”

“Fuck you,” Bard spat. He laid his hand on Finny’s head and pushed him forward a step. “This is Finny. Just got his number today.”

Violet stood up and offered his hand for Finny to shake. “Congrats. I’m Violet. Probably know that already. What number you pick?”

“Eleven,” Finny said with a slight puff of his chest and a huge smile.

“Strength? Hmm. Impressive.” He walked over to a sink at one end of the room to clean up. As he dried his hands, he gave Bard a once over. “Where’s your other half?”

It took Bard a moment to get Violet’s meaning. “Contrary to Circus gossip, I am not Luci’s keeper. Besides. Today is about Finny.”

“Missing him already, I see.” Violet’s eyes danced with mischief.

“Hey Vi? Have you seen—” Cheslock emerged from the back room, his voice cutting out when he saw Bard. “Holy hell, Sixteen. What’s the occasion?”

“Finny here is about to become ‘Eleven,’ officially.”

Bard had thought it wasn’t possible, but Finny’s smile expanded, and the kid stood up straighter, pride emanating from him almost like a visible aura.

Cheslock nodded as if to congratulate the kid and then frowned at Bard. “I thought maybe Luci’d finally convinced you to pierce your cock.”

Bard shivered visibly. Violet’s specialization was tattoos, and he inked every initiate, while Cheslock was a fiend with a piercing gun. He had done all of Sebastian’s and also Ciel’s, but Bard wouldn’t let the crazy spiky-haired man anywhere near him. “Only holes I’m ever getting are from a gunshot.”

Violet cackled, clearly amused, as he pulled out the ink he’d need for the simple tattoo, and began prepping the gun. “Go ahead, roll up your left sleeve and take a seat.”

Cheslock seemed to have grown bored with the conversation and disappeared again, as Finny carefully removed his blazer, revealing his shoulder harness and side arm, and took a seat.

In a blur of movement, Violet snatched Finny’s pistol from its holster and pressed it to the kid’s chest.

Without hesitating, Finny grabbed Violet’s wrist, squeezing tight enough his finger fell off the trigger. Cerulean eyes going cold and determined.

Bard chuckled at the shock in Violet’s eyes and grabbed the cigarette from his ear, shoving it in his mouth. “Jesus, Vi. It’s his first day. Hey, ease up, kid, or he won’t be able to tattoo you.”

Finny obeyed immediately, releasing his hold and taking his gun back, checking the safety before holstering it.

Violet massaged his wrist. “Baby him and he’ll end up dead.”

“He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t ready.”

Violet snorted, though his face was serious when he met Finny’s eyes again. “Never let your guard down, Eleven. Ever.”

 

* * *

 

“You want Joker’s job. Are you serious? Your knowledge of the Underworld is limited.”

Ciel shrugged. “I’m smart. And a fast learner.”

Sebastian rose and turned the chair beside Ciel around before sinking into it, legs spread. “You’d pimp out your own boyfriend?” he asked with an attempt at innocence that was ruined by the lustful glint in his eyes as he swiped some whipped cream from Ciel’s plate and spread it on the younger man’s lips.

Ciel grinned and sucked Sebastian’s finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and along it like it was a cock.

Sebastian groaned. “And they say _I’m_ a demon.”

Ciel grabbed Sebastian by the neck, yanking him into a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue teasing along Sebastian’s piercing, fingers tugging at dark hair as if he couldn’t get enough of the taller man.

Sebastian’s cock grew stiffer, and he moaned, trying to pull Ciel closer, but his boyfriend insisted on controlling the kiss, knowing exactly how to suck on Sebastian’s tongue to make his toe’s curl and his pelvis twitch. Normally, he hated kissing. It was disgusting and far too intimate, much more than any sex act. But with Ciel, it felt transcendent. With Ciel, everything was different. Better.

When Sebastian was able to break away long enough to catch his breath, he smirked and said, “Someone’s hungry for more than breakfast.”

Ciel shrugged, feigning disinterest as he returned to his waffles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want to finish this before it gets soggy.”

Sebastian whined. “My shorts are getting soggy.” He squeezed his cock through his underwear while flashing his best puppy eyes at his boyfriend.

Although Ciel pretended not to notice, munching on his breakfast, he did glance toward Sebastian’s visible hard-on and the blooming wet spot on his boxer briefs.

Pouting, Sebastian stroked himself through the fabric as he watched Ciel tease him, the younger man casually enjoying bite after bite of his waffles as if his boyfriend weren’t even there.

Ciel set his fork down abruptly and reached over to tweak one of Sebastian’s nipples.

He grunted, arching his back, wishing he was wearing something else from his extensive jewelry collection instead of the basic bars he had on right now.

Ciel’s dainty fingers tickled along the outline of Sebastian’s belly button, stopping on the ball of the dangling piecing he’d put on before making breakfast. A gag gift from Ciel. “I can’t believe you’re actually wearing it,” he said with a bemused smile, flicking the charm, a red heart with horns sprouting from the top and a tiny tail from the bottom. Sebastian didn’t have a chance to respond, because Ciel’s mouth had closed over one of Sebastian’s nipples, biting and tugging, tickling with his devilish little tongue.

Without lifting his mouth, Ciel’s hands wandered down to the waistband of Sebastian’s shorts, struggling to fold down the fabric to expose Sebastian’s cock.

Eager for his boyfriend’s attention to retreat lower, Sebastian helped, sliding forward on the seat as he pulled his cock and balls free.

Ciel finally leaned away, tearing Sebastian’s hand from his groin and placing it on the chair behind him. He repeated with the other hand so that Sebastian sat on the edge at an angle, supported by his hands. A stern look told Sebastian without words not to move.

Sex with Ciel was the only time Sebastian felt comfortable letting someone else truly take the reins, the only time he could let his guard down. The only time sex felt _good_. Ceding control was a huge fucking turn on Sebastian couldn’t get enough of. Not that Sebastian didn’t enjoy teasing Ciel—but that would come later.

Ciel removed his glasses and set them on the table. Then he grabbed one of Sebastian’s chopsticks and slid it along his tongue, twisting it as he went, eyes fixed on Sebastian and full of heat. When it was clean, he rolled his shoulder-length hair into a bun, weaving the utensil through to hold it in place. With a lascivious grin, he dropped to his knees, guiding Sebastian’s cock to his mouth with a hand, nuzzling it and laving the shaft.

Moaning, Sebastian’s thighs tensed and his grip tightened. He wanted to grab a handful of slate locks and shove his cock into that hot, wet mouth, choking the younger man until he shot down his throat. Just the image was enough Sebastian had to contract his abs and curl his toes to keep from coming too soon. Panting, Sebastian pleaded, “Ciel. Please.”

Ciel sucked softly on only the crown, humming, blue eyes cast upward with a mischievous glint. After too little stimulation, he pulled off, licking his lips. “Well, I’m gonna go shower.”

Sebastian resisted the urge to move, to take himself in hand. Instead, he leaned back to adjust his balance and wrapped a leg around Ciel before he could escape.

“Damn you and your ninja skills,” Ciel grumbled, although Sebastian knew he wasn’t actually angry.

“Not a ninja,” Sebastian reminded him. This was an old argument, since Ciel considered Sebastian’s training in martial arts, weapons, and combat by his Japanese mentor, Tanaka, qualification enough for the title. “And you _love_ my flexibility.”

“As if your ego needs more stroking,” Ciel teased as he dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit to lap up the precum.

Sebastian kept his leg in place while he slipped his other foot into Ciel’s lap, balancing carefully so he could use his sole to rub the growing bulge in his boyfriend’s shorts.

Ciel grunted and took more of Sebastian’s length, gripping one of his boyfriend’s muscular thighs with one hand while the other wrapped around the base of Sebastian’s thick cock.

Sebastian dropped both feet to the floor as Ciel shifted, sucking down and managing to take the entire shaft, relaxing his throat to swallow around the crown. Neck turning to jelly, Sebastian arched his back so his head hit the top of the chair and as much of his cock pressed into his boyfriend’s delicious mouth as possible, saliva dripping down to form a damp puddle on the fabric of his underwear.

Ciel licked languidly along the length, twisting and curling around the head with every bob, his hand following his mouth.

“Please.”

Ciel didn’t pause, though he did raise an eyebrow.

“Please get a tongue piercing for my birthday.”

Ciel managed to combine an eye roll into a scathing glare. For a couple years, Sebastian had been trying (to no avail) to convince Ciel to get another piercing other than the ones in his nose and ears.

Sebastian stuck his own pierced tongue out, catching the ball on the underside that kept the jewelry in place with his bottom lip, wiggling the tiny dick-shaped piecing he’d worn today on a whim.

Ciel grunted but chose to increase his pace, sucking harder when he pulled back to the crown but never totally releasing the suction.

“Unnnh!” Sebastian shouted, nearly losing his grip on the chair as he bucked into Ciel’s mouth, his mind going delightfully blank as his abs tightened and his balls drew up, pressure building as he neared his peak.

Ciel was so busy keeping up the intensity to drive his boyfriend over the edge he evidently didn’t hear what Sebastian did: the click of a key unlocking the front door and two familiar voices chatting, followed by hinges creaking.

Sebastian clenched and was about to push Ciel away when a thought hit him and he smirked, closing his eyes and exaggerating his cries, relaxing and giving himself over to orgasm.

He felt Ciel start to pull away just as footsteps drew closer and with lightning speed, grabbed the back of his boyfriend’s head to keep him in place.

Sebastian’s body tensed as he shot, coming with an exaggerated groan and shout, euphoria igniting his nerves as he emptied down Ciel’s throat.

Ciel had no choice but to swallow quickly, seed spilling over his lips.

“For fucksake, Luce,” Bard said with a moan of disgust, covering his eyes as he stepped into the kitchen, still wearing his suit. “I was hoping you were in your room and just being loud.”

Ciel punched Sebastian in the thigh as he hurriedly wiped his mouth with his shirt, pulling it down as he stood to try to cover his very obvious boner. “Bastard. You did that on purpose.”

Sebastian put on a very unconvincing expression of innocence. “You’re just so good. I couldn’t control myself.”

“Says the king of orgasm control.”

“At least put your dick away. Jesus,” Bard grumbled. He grabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and gestured with it. “I’m going out back to smoke.”

“No you’re not,” Finny said, speaking for the first time since he and Bard entered, unphased by Sebastian’s nakedness or behavior, since he was used to it. “You’ll make Ciel sick and Mr. Sebastian will kill you.”

Sebastian chuckled, satisfied he’d embarrassed both Ciel and Bard in one go, tucking himself in and standing. He put a hand on Finny’s shoulder. “You look real handsome in your suit. What card did you pull?”

“Strength!” Finny said proudly. He eased his sleeves up and peeled the edge of the bandage away to reveal his tattoo, red, but still visible enough to make out.

Sebastian beamed. “Congrats, Eleven. Welcome to the family.” Sebastian hugged Finny tight. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in Finny’s ear before kissing his cheek. “I saved some waffle batter for you and Bard.” Sebastian gestured to the fridge. “And especially now, you don’t need to call me Mr. Sebastian. We’ve been over this.”

Bard had tossed his blazer on a chair and rolled his sleeves up, arms folded, chewing on his unlit cigarette. “Yeah, ‘mister’ implies he deserves respect,” he said with a snort of laughter.

“Congrats, Fin. I’ll be back,” Ciel said with a sweet smile and a hand gesture that Sebastian knew was part of their secret coded communication only the two boys knew, like a twin language of sorts, since their bond was so close. Then he pulled on one of Sebastian’s nipple piercings until he winced. “Bedroom. _Now._ ”

Knowing better than to argue, Sebastian obeyed, following his lover upstairs, curious what punishment Ciel had in store.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We LOVE asks (anon is fine)! Tell us what you liked best or what you’re most looking forward to, or any questions you might have!
> 
> Or just drop a <3 if you’d like to send us another kudos!
> 
> Here are a few comment suggestions:  
> -What do you think of the glimpse into Sebastian's past?  
> \--How do you think it's shaped who he is in the present?  
> -What do you think about Finny?  
> -How did you like the insight into Circus and Joker's organization?  
> \--What else might you like to see?  
> -What do you think of Ciel and Sebastian's relationship?  
> -What shocked you the most about this chapter?  
> -What do you think/hope will happen next?
> 
> Be sure to follow us on tumblr if you don’t already, @plague-of-insomnia and @luci-on-the-moon


	7. Pleasure, Pain, & Fire, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember us?
> 
> So we never intended such a long hiatus, but the past few months haven't been kind to either of us.
> 
> However, we're both committed to WDH, and even when we're not posting we are thinking about this fic!
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck with us during these trying times, and to make up for it, here's a doubly-long chapter we hope you'll love as much as we do!

[ ](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/wdh_ch07_kiss_wtext_medq.png)

 

Mid morning. One of the busier times for the infirmary, the micro hospital that occupied an entire floor of the hotel. So Bard was surprised but relieved he was alone. Although it occasionally serviced guests, the facility’s primary role was medical care for everyone in Circus, most of whom couldn’t exactly stroll into the nearest urgent care if they were sick or injured.

Bard liked quiet. Though he was good with people, a natural leader, he preferred his own company. Getting too involved only meant trouble in the end, and he was too old for that shit.

He waved and smiled at the receptionist and passed through into the ward, looking for Ron. After wandering past half a dozen exam rooms, he used his security clearance to enter the inpatient unit. The hospital proper felt like another world from the serene soundless spaces before, with staff hurrying from place to place, the noise of typing, voices, and footsteps overlapping into its own melody.

Both as a patient and head of security, he’d spent enough time back here, yet he hated it just as much each goddamned time. The smell, the lighting, the atmosphere that prinkled his skin as if illness and suffering had some tangible impact on the air.

He finally found his quarry in his office. The opened door revealed a small but cluttered space decorated with posters and figures like some teenager’s bedroom. Ron reclined in his desk chair, bobbing to music he was listening to via headphones, engrossed in paperwork, the mouse clicking seemingly keeping beat to the song.

Using his stealth training, Bard snuck up behind his friend. Just as he was about to pinch Ron’s shoulder, the medic reacted, snagging Bard’s wrist and spinning around to face the buff blond. With his trademark grin, he pulled off his headphones. “Don’t forget I’m still a field agent.”

“Gotta make sure your reflexes stay sharp,” Bard replied, barely hiding the smile that indicated he was bulshitting.

Ron rolled his eyes and crossed his arms on his chest. “Please tell me you didn’t interrupt just to fuck with me.” He checked his watch. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Need you to patch this up for me.” Bard yanked his T-shirt over his head, exposing a poorly-tied, blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his upper right arm.

Ron sighed but said nothing except to wave Bard to follow him toward a curtained area with a bed and supply cabinet. While Ron disinfected his hands and gloved up, Bard took a seat. Removing the wrapping exposed a nasty gash, the skin barely held together with awkwardly placed steristrips. After examining the wound, Ron frowned. “This is gonna need stitches.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. Would’ve done it myself if it was on the other arm.”

“You’re usually more careful,” Ron said as he gathered the materials he needed on a sterile tray.

“Yeah, well I’m normally not dealing with a freakin’ psychopath,” Bard grumbled.

Ron focused on cleaning the wound. “What?”

“The newbie. You know him. He’s come in with me once or twice. Long, straight black hair. Tall. Too beautiful to be so fucking creepy?”

Ron seemed to study Bard for a moment. The guy came off as an airhead only interested in hooking up with whatever latest hot thing Joker had hired, but truth was, he was a good field agent and one of their best medics. Every now and then he dropped his normal carefree facade and got far too intense for Bard’s taste. Like right now.

“Why you looking at me like that?”

“Sit still or I’ll do this without anesthetic, and you know how much fun that is.” His voice and expression were uncomfortably pleasant for his words. And yet, despite his threat, he injected a numbing agent around the injury. “Never seen a rookie get you this worked up.”

Bard scratched his chin with his free hand. “I’ve trained plenty of guards and a handful of fixers, but this kid. . . . There’s just something _off_ about him.”

“Come on. Joker has good instincts or he never would’ve survived so long in this business,” Ron said with certainty as he used forceps and a curved needle to expertly place each stitch. “Fine. I’ll bite. What’s so ‘off’ about Luci?”

“He’s good, Ron. _Too_ good.”

The medic scoffed, pulling tight enough on the thread it made Bard wince. “Told you to sit still.”

Bard glared. Only one who pushed his buttons more than Ron was Violet. “Never put much stock in Joker’s mumbo jumbo, but no doubt: that kid is _Lucifer._ ”

“Should make you happy. After all, you’re the one with the sexy devil tattooed on his chest.” Ron sniggered.

“Funny.” Bard laid his left hand over the cursed image. “This damn thing is the reason I haven’t played pool with you and Vi for years.”

[ ](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/wdh_ch07_ronbard_medq.png)

  
“Still a sore loser, I see.”

“I’m serious. The kid’s a few fries short of a happy meal. Like one jelly donut shy of Lawrence in _Full Metal Jacket_. He goes from robot one minute to gleefully chopping off fingers the next.”

“So he enjoys his work.”

“Laugh if you want. But I’m telling you. The kid’s a goddamned psychopath. Been working with him a month and only thing I know for sure is that he’s completely unpredictable. And scares the shit out of our targets like nothing I’ve seen before.” After hesitating, Bard continued, “Fuck. I’d be an idiot not to be afraid of him.”

“Not like you to be scared of someone half your size.” Ron tied off the last stitch and began cleaning the area. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but for what you do, isn’t striking fear into your targets a good thing?”

“Thanks.” Bard glared, starting to stand, but his friend shoved him back down.

“I’m not done.” He stared hard at his work, testing the patency of the stitches. “This’s a bitch of a cut. How’d you get it, anyway?” He rose and dug through the supply chest again.

“Luci.”

Ron paused in his search to glance over at Bard. “He _stabbed_ you? Or tried to, from the look of it, since it’s a glancing slice.”

Bard started to cross his arms on his chest when he caught himself and merely grumbled. “First few weeks, kid barely needed to be told what to do. Someone clearly trained him well before he joined up. He’s smart, knows how to manipulate his enemy, and is freaky fast.”

“I sense a ‘but,’” Ron said without looking away from his task.

“Lately, he’s been falling asleep on the job, and those lightning-fast reflexes have dulled so much he almost got us both killed during our last mission. I’m lucky I was able to take out the target’s muscle and this is all I have to show for it.” Bard itched to pull his pack from his pocket. The stress of dealing with Luci’s impossible to predict behavior was wearing on him. He’d become grateful for the moments when the kid snoozed in the car because it meant he could relax his guard. Never completely, though, since Luci’s fighting style relied on his opponents underestimating him. Bard was convinced the kid was simply waiting for the right opportunity to slit his throat and devour him. “Actually, planning to have a chat with Joker about it after we finish here.”

Ron froze suddenly, shutting a drawer Bard could have sworn was full of steristrips. “Because of the angle and position of that cut, I’m worried the stitches might need some extra support to keep them from reopening. I’ll have to go grab some supplies from the stockroom. Let me cover it for now and I’ll finish up once I’ve got what I need.”

Bard eyed him but knew from experience arguing was pointless. If he busted his stitches he’d have to come back anyway.

After pacing around the small room for far too long, Bard decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to smoke _now_. For security purposes, Bard had memorized every square inch of the hotel, including the private and secret areas. But as a heavy smoker living and working in a non-smoking building, he never would have survived all these years without learning where he could sneak a light. Cautiously, he pulled his shirt back on and headed out. He’d be back by the time Ron returned.

— # —

  
Bard’s detour took him through the ICU, past nurses who nodded or waved in greeting, and a half dozen critical care rooms where the gravest patients were managed. All sat empty and dark except one. He didn’t think much of it as he passed until he caught a familiar profile in his peripheral vision. A tall, lean figure with unmistakable dark hair down to his waist. _What’s Luci doing here?_

It was their day off, and Joker mandated thorough physical evaluations for all new recruits, so perhaps that explained the tall man’s presence. Circus operated under its own rules; medical privacy didn’t exist like it did in the outside world. Joker’s entire business revolved around information, and that included critical details about his own staff. But, in return, he guaranteed full health coverage. 

No need to acknowledge the kid. Bad enough Bard had to deal with him on the clock. But he paused when he noticed Luci wasn’t alone.

Dr. Dalles, aka “Red,” one of Joker’s inner circle (despite her lower level code name), who ran the infirmary made sense. But the other person surprised Bard so much he stopped and ducked behind a support column where he could observe the room discreetly. To keep anyone from questioning his presence, he took out his phone and acted busy. It wasn’t out of place for the head of security to tour the hospital, after all.

Luci stood stiffly as usual, apparently listening to Red. Nothing strange about that. Except for the young blond teen with his arms wrapped around the tall man, face buried and shoulders shaking as if he were sobbing. If that weren’t bizarre enough, Luci was gently stroking the boy’s hair as if to comfort him.

Bard nearly dropped his phone. No way that was the same kid he’d been describing to Ron. The Luci he knew had no true emotions, and hated being touched. He’d nearly stabbed a target in the shoulder their first week on the job because the guy looked like he might put a hand on him. How he could work as an escort with that issue was beyond Bard, but that was Joker’s problem.

Did Luci have a double or something? Because this tenderhearted family man had nothing in common with the robotic killer Bard shared a car with too many hours a week. And who was the boy? Couldn’t be a relative. How the hell could that monster actually _care_ about someone?

Tempted to intervene or at least find out what the hell was going on, Bard hesitated when he saw Luci touch his face suddenly, eyes widened in surprise. Tears. Genuine fucking tears rolled down the kid’s cheeks, shocking him as much as Bard.

What the ever-loving fuck.

Red looked sympathetic as she reached toward Luci’s arm as if to lend her support, and Bard’s hand flew to his holster. Joker would literally kill him if he let that whacko attack her.

Fortunately for everyone, the kid simply flinched away, squared his shoulders and wiped his face, composing himself again. After a moment, the conversation continued as if nothing had happened.

Holy fucking hell. Had Bard stepped into some alternate reality? Had Ron drugged him? No way this was the same kid he was afraid to let his guard down around, who barely spoke, whose only emotions were tied to violence or completely feigned. Like the show he’d put on their first day, acting as if he were scared because Bard wouldn’t let Luci suck him off. The whole act had probably been a trap.

But Bard had seen enough to know those tears had been 100% genuine. The kid was upset. The Devil did have a heart after all.

“Finally!”

Bard steeled his features, slipped his phone in his pocket, and turned toward Ron.

“Been looking for you. Found what I needed.” Ron gave him a once over. “You all right?” He’d barely finished speaking when his gaze drifted over to the three people in the room across from them. “Oh. Yeah. It’s so sad.” After a moment of staring at Bard’s confused and clueless expression, Ron rolled his eyes. “Right. You don’t know. Thought you were supposed to be partners.” He shook his head and waved for Bard to follow him back to their previous room. “I’ll finish patching you up and fill you in.”

— # —

 

A few minutes later, they were back in business, Ron gloved up again. When he noticed Bard grabbing the hem of his shirt to tug over his head, Ron barked, “Leave it. Just roll up the sleeve. I don’t want you fucking up my work any more than you already have.”

Still stunned from what he’d witnessed, Bard obeyed without argument.

Chuckling, Ron sat and resumed tending the wound. He didn’t miss anything, especially when it came to Bard (who he claimed was transparent as tape). “Why are you so surprised Luci has people he cares about? Not everyone can be an Iceman like you.”

His snarl morphed into a wince as Ron manipulated the wound to check the patency of the stitches. “Told you never to call me that.”

“But it’s the perfect nickname for a cold assassin like you! The fact me and Vi are still friends with you is proof of how awesome we really are.”

“You act as if I don’t care about anyone. I would die for Joker and Circus.”

Ron barely suppressed a laugh as he carefully placed each steristrip. “That’s _duty._ Have you ever had someone you wanted to protect, and not because you were paid to?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Bard growled, curling his left hand into a fist.

A hand raised in surrender, Ron remarked, “Just saying you and Luci are probably more alike than you think.”

Bard whirled around, causing the strip Ron was in the midst of placing to rip off painfully. Yet he ignored it. “Luci is _nothing_ like me!”

Ron’s shock faded into a bemused smile. He studied his fuming friend for a moment before speaking. “Me and Vi have a game of who can piss you off faster, since you’re normally so cool headed. You know. Like an _Iceman._ ”

“Cute. Really fucking cute.” Bard took a deep breath. He’d already given that shithead way too much self satisfaction. “Just shut the fuck up and finish. I’d like to get some sleep before my next shift.”

“Digging into that crevice you call a heart always riles you up.” He made an effort to look stubborn Bard in the eye. “To an outsider, you and Luci are nothing but cold-blooded killers, but we know it’s not that simple. Maybe the kid’s more complicated than you want to admit.” Ron rolled back, encouraging Bard to shift as well so he could continue his work despite his friend’s grumbling. “How does the Circus spymaster not know everything about Luci? The three of them were all anyone talked about their first couple weeks here.”

Ron resumed placing tending the wound as he talked. “Oh. Right. You were on that deep-cover assignment out of town and weren’t around when they showed up. I’ll paint you a picture. It really was something.

“Imagine: it’s a typical boring day, humid as fuck, sun setting, and suddenly this kid appears like he’s emerging straight out of the blood red of the horizon.” Ron gestured dramatically with one of the steristrips, as if he wasn’t being melodramatic enough. “Hair past his ass, sword strapped to his back, blood splattered like he stepped straight off some Tarantino set.”

_Sounds like Luci._

“If that’s not wild enough, there’s this scrawny teenage boy tagging behind him, and another in his arms. And he just strolls right up to the guards, doesn’t even flinch when they point their guns at him, and says, ‘Joker.’” To add effect to his tale, Ron formed his hand into a pistol and lowered his voice when he spoke their boss’s name, which was particularly ridiculous since Luci didn’t sound like that. Bard got a feeling Ron had regaled many with this story over the past month. But he wasn’t interested in entertainment: he was much more of an old-school, “Just the facts, ma’am,” kind of guy.

Luci had guts, Bard would give the kid that much, though he’d assumed it came from insanity. It seemed odd that he’d risk a bullet in the head for two teens he probably had no blood relation to. “And Joker just took them all in, no questions asked?

Ron pressed against the wound as if to ensure all the strips were secure, though Bard knew it was his way of saying he didn’t appreciate Bard’s sass. Ironic.

“Goddamnit, Ron.”

Without apologizing, he set about covering the area with a special large bandage that would keep the wound clean and dry. “I don’t know the details. Above my pay grade, and Luci ain’t exactly a conversationalist.” Ron leaned back and started gathering up the trash. “All done. You know the drill.”

Bard nodded, touching the bandage gingerly. He’d lost count of how many times he’d needed stitching up. His body was etched with scars from his life as a soldier, each healed wound its own story best forgotten.

The snap of gloves as Ron pulled them off drew Bard’s attention back to him. “Rumor is Luci was sent here by _someone_ , and that someone must have had some pull with Joker, ‘cause he took them all in and ordered us to do everything we could to save the sick one.”

Bard rolled his sleeve down and stood up. “Joker is like a dragon: when he sees treasure, he has to have it.” He gazed toward the interior of the infirmary, as if he could see through the walls to where he’d last watched Luci speaking to Dr. Red. “That kid is the best fighter I’ve ever seen for the type of work we do. Somebody trained him, and not in strip-mall karate bull but real, ‘kill or be killed’ hand-to-hand combat. Add his acting and . . . _other_ abilities he supposedly has, and I’m not surprised Joker wanted to blackmail him into Circus.”

All Ron’s prior delight from teasing Bard vanished. “What?”

Bard pulled his pack from his pocket and took out a cigarette, tapping the end absently as he explained, “This whole business is about money and favors. Joker gets a new weapon, and the sick boy gets the best of Circus’s medical treatment.”

Ron frowned, an expression Bard didn’t see from him often. “Whatever Luci’s arrangement with Joker may be, it’s clear those boys are important to him. He’s exhausted because he’s been spending all the time he should be sleeping keeping vigil at the sick boy’s bedside.” Ron sighed heavily, adjusting the privacy blinds on the door as if to give himself something to do with his hands. “It’ll all be over soon, anyway.”

Bard had been in the process of sticking his cig in his mouth when Ron’s meaning clicked.

Nodding sadly, he said, “Yeah. That’s what Red was telling them. “The infection has taken his entire right lung and his body is shutting down. He was just too weak. Too sick, when he got here. He’s dying.”  
  


* * *

  
“What the fuck was that? You knew Bard and Finny were back and you . . . !” Ciel shouted before the door had even clicked shut behind them. With the volume he put into his voice, no one would have suspected he only had one working lung or that he’d nearly died seven years ago. “I’d slap you, but you’d probably enjoy it.”

Sebastian shrugged with a grin, slipping off his soiled underwear and tossing it in the hamper. He fell back into a sit, bouncing on the mattress. “So what you gonna do about it?”

Ciel opened a drawer, dug around until he found what he wanted. He showed the red plastic device to Sebastian with a smirk before tossing it to him.

Sebastian caught it easily in one hand.

“Put it on,” Ciel ordered.

The older man sighed but didn’t argue, taking the cock cage apart, separating the tube from the ring. Since Sebastian was larger than most, Ciel had ordered several sized-to-fit chastity devices from Sieglinde, another Circus member who ran a sex shop in town called Bitchcraft. Her real job was customizing toys, clothes, and guns for anyone in Circus who might need her services. She also specialized in cleverly installing tiny cameras to catch prime blackmail material for Joker.

“Making me wear this in summer is cruel,” he murmured as he guided his balls one at a time through the ring. 

“Be happy I’m letting you wear this one instead of something bulkier.” Fair enough. Ciel had picked the lightweight surgical nylon cage, which, despite covering his entire cock, was far more comfortable than the metal or other plastic ones they had.

Sebastian said nothing more, focusing on his task. He pumped a small amount of lube from the bottle on their nightstand and used it to coat his cock, especially the delicate skin at the tip, retracting his foreskin so it wouldn’t end up caught in one of the slots as he slid the cage on. He snapped the tab with the embedded lock into place—another of Sieglinde’s little additions, since he couldn’t cut it off or pick it easily. He was convinced that witch was determined to keep him in chastity so she could have Ciel for herself, even though he was queerer than a two-dollar bill.

“Done, _master_ ,” Sebastian grumbled, although it was partly for show. They both knew Sebastian loved Ciel’s creative punishments.

“Good.” Ciel inspected the cage, and when satisfied, locked it. He teased Sebastian by showing off the keys. “If I’m feeling charitable, maybe I’ll take it off tonight.”

Sebastian sighed, standing up to double-check the cage was safely in place before Ciel hid the key. “And if I get a last-minute client?”

“Then maybe it’ll make you think twice about forcing me to swallow when our fucking friends are standing right there?” The anger quickly drained from his face and he kissed Sebastian chastely, cradling his cheeks before leaning back to stare worriedly into his eyes. “I’m going to shower. Get some sleep. You look like shit.”

“I love you, Ciel. You know that, right?”

Ciel paused, his hand still in Sebastian’s hair, concern blooming in his expression. Neither man said the words too often, Sebastian even less than Ciel, though both knew how each felt about the other. “I love you too,” he said slowly, as if hoping something might explain why Sebastian had suddenly blurted out those three little words. He frowned, then apparently decided to let it go when Sebastian wasn’t forthcoming, saying, “Even a thirteen-layer chocolate cake won’t get that off before tonight. But nice try.”  
  


* * *

 

Love was selfish and cruel. Manipulative. Deceptive. Like a cancer that did nothing but destroy from within. Tanaka had taught Sebastian to master his emotions, to dictate the face he showed the world. This was the fortress on which he built his entire new life at Circus. And it had worked for the past five years.

Until today. Until Ciel, and a single gesture that demolished his foundation, the reigns of his life suddenly in the fists of a young man Sebastian could break with only one hand.

When Sebastian returned from Bard’s, everything seemed fine. _Normal_ . Their apartment was quiet, Ciel sitting placidly at the table, cradling a mug. As Sebastian approached cautiously, soundlessly, almost as if he were on a mission, he observed that no steam rose from the full cup. Ciel never wasted tea, and he drank it _hot_ , so the beverage had remained untouched long enough to cool.

Cold tea and a calm Ciel?

Not a good sign.

“Sorry I just took off,” Sebastian began. Ciel had kissed him for the first time. Sebastian panicked. Rushed to his Life Guru (Bard) for advice, and had a bruise forming in his shoulder for being a “long-limbed dumbfuck,” a term Bard used whenever Sebastian was being particularly stupid.

Before Sebastian could continue with the script he had crafted with Bard’s help, Ciel smiled. It was not pleasant. Familiar only because Luci often grinned like that just before he pounced on his prey. “Sit down,” Ciel said in a firm, but toneless voice.

Sebastian opened his mouth to protest, but Ciel’s eyes narrowed for only an instant—a wordless threat. The slightly awkward teen who’d taken a risk and kissed Sebastian moments ago had vanished, replaced by a man who radiated authority. Yes, the boy had always been bossy, but this was different. Ciel wasn’t a kid anymore, and he dominated the room despite his delicate disposition.

Obeying, Sebastian sank into a seat, half convinced Ciel was pointing one of his pistols beneath the table, aimed at the older man’s crotch, ready to shoot. He could almost hear Bard saying, _“You’d deserve it, dumbass.”_

“Since the kiss clearly did not convey my message,” Ciel explained like he were conducting a business meeting, and Sebastian immediately regretted convincing him to take college classes, “I’ll just say it.” As if it were a glamor, Ciel’s composed demeanor flickered, his eyes betraying how uncertain and nervous he must really be. Others may have missed it, but Sebastian had known the teen more than five years now, and reading people was his speciality. “I like you, Sebastian. Not as a friend or a roommate. I want more than that. But if you don’t—”

Ciel wanted sex! Of course! _That_ Sebastian understood. He rose and approached. Stood for a moment, looming over the petite seated Ciel, their height difference magnified. Then he fell to his knees, spreading the young man’s legs.

 _This_ wasn’t uncharted territory. He’d freaked out for nothing. Sure, the kiss had been the first that hadn’t felt disgusting, that had made his heart race and his dick hard, that he’d _wanted_ , but he could ignore all that complicated crap. Giving others pleasure was what Sebastian did best, after all.

Amidst his relief, disappointment struggled to bubble to the surface. His desires had never mattered. He lived to serve, and that would never change. Better. Easier, that way.

Just as Sebastian was leaning in to lick Ciel’s cock through his clothes, he was shoved away. “ _No._ This isn’t—that’s not—” Ciel’s carefully assembled facade began to crumble.

Ah. So a blow job wasn’t enough? Greedy little thing. Sebastian wasn’t sure if Ciel was a virgin. Didn’t care what the boys did so long as they were safe and smart, and Ciel was definitely that. But if letting Ciel fuck him would make all this awkwardness and uncertainty evaporate, if it would mean that kiss really was nothing, then Sebastian could do that. Just providing for another one of Ciel’s needs. 

Sebastian slipped three fingers in his mouth, sucking loudly and lewdly, sliding them in and out like a cock. Joker loved when he did this. Would nearly pass out each time just from watching and imagining Sebastian’s hot, wet mouth around his dick. For a guy who controlled the Houston sex industry, Joker was surprisingly easy to please. Ciel responded too: his breathing quickening, no longer measured and even, tiny tongue darting out to moisten his plump lips.

Before the show could truly begin, Ciel stood, immediately creating distance between them. No longer hiding his emotions, scowling down at Sebastian, he shouted, “I’m not one of your fucking clients!” The outburst surprised them both. Immediately, Ciel turned away, pacing, panting, trying to calm down.

Worry and fear tore the mask away. Sebastian jumped up and snagged the inhaler Ciel always kept in the bowl in the middle of the table, ready to offer it.

Over the past five years, Ciel had trained hard to regulate his emotions, since their effect on his breathing could trigger an asthma attack.

“I’m fine,” Ciel said when he faced Sebastian again, glancing down at the inhaler. He took a few measured breaths as if to prove his point, or perhaps to ensure he’d remain calm when he spoke again. “I want you to be my boyfriend. I want to be a normal couple.” He shrugged. “Well, normal-ish. I want all of you, Seb.” Ciel’s eyes softened as he tucked some stray hair behind his ear, exposing the miniature constellation of tiny star earrings along his lobe. He was so fucking beautiful, the bewildering desire to kiss him swept over Sebastian. “But if you don’t feel the same, tell me. Now. And we can both forget today ever happened.”

Suddenly, every detail of the plan he’d prepared with Bard melted away, and he spoke without realizing what he was saying, “You deserve better.”

“That’s not an answer.” Ciel snatched his mug and carried it to the kitchenette of their hotel suite.

Like the stupid dog he was, Sebastian followed. “I’m a whore. I torture and kill people for a living.”

“I know.” The only sound that was louder than Sebastian’s own heartbeat was the whoosh of water as Ciel cleaned his cup..

This entire “mission” had gone completely pear shaped. Though Sebastian was an excellent manipulator, Ciel wasn’t some John or an asshole who owed Joker money. Hell. He’d tried the “client” thing, and that had blown up in his face spectacularly. Ciel was intelligent, young, and beautiful. He could have anyone. “Why me?”

Ciel dried his hands. “The heart wants what it wants.” When he smiled, it was wry, a little sad, but not at all venomous. An honest expression. “You saved me,” he added, as if in clarification. His cheeks reddened, he glanced away and murmured something too quiet to make out. Then he cleared his throat, and with confidence, said, “I’m an adult now, and I want you. So, do you want me too, or not?”

Ciel had always been _special_ . Someone Sebastian would sacrifice everything for. Even now, he’d never been able to say exactly _why._

The day of the escape, Sebastian had faced the terrifying stranger called “freedom” for the first time in his life. He remembered standing amidst the roar and crackle of the flames, the searing heat making sweat bead on his skin, realizing the prospect of not being told what to do was far more terrifying than letting the fire consume him.

The sizzle and whoosh of the blaze like demonic whispering beckoning him to reject all instinct and allow himself to be devoured.

And then a sound. Quiet, at first, like an undertone to the chorus of the flickering flames. Persistent and rhythmic unlike the chaos of the conflagration. So Sebastian had stepped away from the temptation of permanent freedom, each breath burning, the scene before him a bright haze of orange.

Weak, sick, suffocating, coughing and gasping with all the strength his frail body could muster, Ciel had refused to lose to the same death Sebastian had been so quick to accept. 

Tanaka had always said, “Respect he who fights well.” Sebastian’s life might have been worth little more than kindling, but that was still a tool. One he could use for those who _deserved._

All these years, Ciel saw Sebastian as his savior, when it was Ciel’s own tenacity that had saved them all.

“The only people who matter to me are you and Finny,” Ciel said, snapping Sebastian from his reverie.

“Not Bard?”

Ciel shrugged, leaning against the sink. “I have a hierarchy. You and Finny are my family. Then there’s Circus. After that, everyone else. I would kill anyone who hurt you or Fin, even Bard. Even Joker. I would slaughter the world for you.” 

Although Ciel’s words were like barbs digging into his heart, pulling him closer to the younger man, Sebastian plowed on. He had to convince Ciel what a bad fucking idea they were. “You’re honestly saying you don’t care that I’ve fucked more people than I can count? Or that I will torture and kill without hesitation.”

“Anyone in the first two tiers doesn't exist as far as I’m concerned.” Faceless, nameless, forgotten masses. Just part of a job, of surviving, that’s all they were. Bard, Finny, and especially Ciel, they were the only ones who mattered, the reason Sebastian pushed through every fucking day. Apparently Ciel felt the same.

“And I thought you were the smart one.”

Ciel laughed, covering his mouth with his fist like one might a cough, as if it were a dangerous thing. “I hate seeing you hurt, but otherwise, your job is just that: a job. I have faith in you, and I know Bard won’t let you do anything _too_ stupid.”

 _Just say it. Tell him you still see him as a little kid you need to take care of and nothing more. Hurt him to protect him._ But the words seemed trapped in his throat.

Ciel frowned, his strongest show of emotion since his angry outburst earlier. “So. When we kissed. That was just another performance for you.” He didn’t inflect it, but his eyes begged for a response.

Sebastian barely withheld a wince. This was his opportunity. To lie. To tell Ciel he’d slipped into habit, just a whore doing his job. Mouth dry, he opened it to say as such, but instead found himself saying, “No.”

“No?”

Suddenly unable to face those cold, cruel blue eyes, Sebastian explained, “I don’t kiss my clients. Ever.”

Even without looking, Sebastian could feel Ciel’s gaze scrutinizing him.

“But it was different. With you.” He formed fists, nails digging into his palms.

A triumphant smile flashed across Ciel’s face before it disappeared, and he stepped closer to take one of Sebastian’s wrists, bringing it to his lips, planting a peck on the heel of his hand.

“I promised I would protect you, even from myself,” Sebastian whispered.

“Because you’re a bad man?” Ciel said in a mocking tone. “I don’t want protection from you. From this.” He pressed closer, tilting his head up to maintain eye contact. “I know you would never hurt me. Just promise me three things: never lie to me, tell me if you feel something like this for someone else, and let me protect you too.”

Ciel’s lips were so close Sebastian could feel the warmth of his breath. It would be so simple. So _easy_ to give in. So tempting. Sebastian slid his palm over Ciel’s slender frame, up toward his throat. “Never hurt you?” he—no, _Luci_ —asked in growl as he slammed the boy hard into the wall.

Ciel let out a small cry of surprise and pain. Before he could react, fingers had wrapped tight around his neck.

“I could kill you with one hand.” He pressed nearer and squeezed just enough the smaller man’s own hands—tiny and weak in comparison—flew to his throat to try to pry off that deadly grip.

And yet Ciel’s eyes were determined. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Luci grinned, that same smile that was enough to terrify weaker prey on the spot. He could feel the frantic rhythm of Ciel’s heartbeat at his throat. “Your body says otherwise.”

But instead of cowing, Ciel retorted, “Well, I’m not a ninja who’s learned to control my blood pressure with my mind.”

“Not a ninja,” Sebastian bit back automatically, Luci banished to wherever that persona dwelled in his mind when not in use.

“Yeah?” Ciel’s voice was breathy, chest heaving, even though Sebastian had released his throat. This close, Sebastian could see the faint freckles on his nose, how his glasses were slightly askew from being shoved into the wall, that he’d torn some skin on his lip from chewing it. Ciel never wavered, never backed down. He was clearly ready to jump into Hell feet first.

[ ](http://chiealeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/wdh_ch07_kiss_medq.png)

“Yeah,” Sebastian echoed. “Yeah.” And then he kissed him, tentatively at first. Ciel tasted like chocolate, probably the special flavored lipgloss Finny had gifted him for Christmas. Sebastian didn’t even like that flavor normally, and yet he knew he needed more. The hand that had been ready to kill Ciel moments earlier held him firmly but tenderly. He deepened the kiss, the fingers of the other slipping into soft slate hair, a desperate hunger he’d never felt before igniting his body and driving him to devour Ciel.

Clumsy at first, Ciel soon took control, pushing up into Sebastian, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck.

Sebastian heaved Ciel’s legs up with a firm grip on his ass, never breaking the kiss as they ground into one another, panting whenever they had a rare spare instant.

Ciel slid his hands under Sebastian’s shirt, up to his piercings, teasing them and making the older man buck in response. The younger man’s laugh was muffled by their mingling mouths.

Finally, Sebastian had to break away so he could speak, though his body continued to move into Ciel, frantic for more touch, for more of the smaller man. “Need you. Never—never needed like this before.”

“Good,” Ciel said, though he was struggling for breath. Pressed up against the wall, supported only by Sebastian’s hold, chest heaving, pupils huge, lips plump and cheeks flushed, Ciel was exquisite.

Nuzzling into the throat he could have easily crushed earlier, Sebastian thrived off each small sound Ciel made. Was this how his clients felt? Was this why he was always so in demand? No. This was different. “You’re mine.” The words were a growl, almost as if they weren’t his own. Though not like before. Not Luci’s.

“I’ve been yours a long time,” Ciel breathed, arching into Sebastian’s touch.

For an instant, he froze, captivated and confused. He pushed Ciel’s shirt up and teased a nipple, enjoying how responsive the younger man was, a pleasured cry escaping that Sebastian was certain was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. The blue-eyed man wouldn’t last much longer. “You won’t regret this?”

Ciel clasped Sebastian’s jaw, trembling, on the edge of climax, and yet he said, “Never.”

In a swift move, Sebastian popped the button and undid the fly on Ciel’s jeans, exposing his already damp underwear, hard-on threatening to escape the confines of the fabric. Sebastian cradled him as he expertly rubbed the head with his thumb, gentle, rapid movements to push the young man over the edge. 

_Then I will give you a part of me no one else will ever see._

 

* * *

  
Sleep, Ciel had said. If only it were so easy. With the cage, his usual position on his stomach was too uncomfortable, so he tried rolling onto his right side. But the pressure ignited the persistent pain in his ribs pressure, so he rolled to his left. Even worse. Onto his back, next. Hurting was normal. His entire body ached and had for so long it was like the background noise of his life, something he could ignore except when a particular part flared.

He stared up at the ceiling, searching for shapes in the paint as if he were cloud gazing, trying to ignore the lingering ache in his chest. The air in the room felt heavy and sticky, like a tangible essence that clung to his skin. Despite the lube, he swore he could feel the cage sticking, grateful for the overhead fan that blew a light breeze over his naked body.

He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind and focused on what he could hear. The gentle fall of water from the shower. Ciel singing softly to himself in French. The faint audio from Finny’s video game downstairs. The AC kicking on.

His body grew heavier as his thoughts drifted back to Undertaker. The old man could very well be fucking with him. Sebastian used that technique himself: give the target just enough sensitive info they think you know a hell of a lot more than you actually do. It had converted many monthly payments from the scantest of tangible blackmail material.

But Sebastian’s gut told him Undertaker’s intel was genuine. Lau really was back. If only he had been there the day of the fire, if only Sebastian hadn’t been a coward and killed the fucker when he’d had a chance. . . .

He wouldn’t hesitate this time. Before, all he’d had was his own worthless life.

But things were different now.

Tanaka often said, “He who fights for love is stronger than he who fights alone.”

Sebastian was stronger now. He would defeat Lau to protect Ciel, and everyone else whose lives had value.

With this thought, he drifted off.

 

* * *

 

A warm, moist tongue darted into the slit of the chastity cage, teasing the head of Sebastian’s cock, pulling him awake. He groaned as the tube was enveloped by an inviting mouth, the barrier of the plastic—which totally surrounded his member—keeping him from fully enjoying the suction or rubbing against his boyfriend’s palate.

Next, a cold, damp finger pressed at his entrance and Sebastian’s stomach flipped in anticipation. He spread his legs in invitation, moaning as the digit entered him. A few seconds to give his body time to adjust and it sank further. The tip brushed against his prostate, the lightest of touches, gentle swipes, and he began to harden. But the boundaries of the cage limited the swelling, and pleasure soon turned to pain. He cried out, a sound that was a blend of a whine, a groan, and a moan, drawing a leg up until his knee was bent, foot pressed to the mattress to try to escape that brutal finger, which continued its assault, the pressure just enough to electrify his nerves in pained ecstasy.

As Sebastian let his eyes flutter open, Ciel popped off, though his finger continued to stroke. He smiled wickedly, but his eyes were tender as he said, “This will hurt. But if it’s too much, if you need me to stop, say the safe word and I will. OK?”

The pain was enough to dampen his attempted erection, though the relentless torture from Ciel’s finger meant he would be hardening again, caught in the brutal cycle of pain to pleasure to pain, simultaneously never quite getting enough sensation and also feeling far too much. He finally managed a nod, squirming as a second finger entered him, the tips fluttering on the edges of his prostate.

Ciel continued to tease him with his fingers and tongue, and Sebastian had to tangle his hands in the sheets, his instinct to stroke his cock to try to get harder, to peak, to come, but he knew it was futile. He whimpered when Ciel tickled his balls, but when his abs tightened, the younger man drew back. Even the fingers paused their assault to stretch him, scissoring and curling but avoiding the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Then Ciel withdrew his digits, and his hand braced the underside of Sebastian’s knee as he swiped his tongue along the back of the older man’s thigh.

Sebastian arched, growing so hard so quickly the sudden constricting pain of the cage caused a strangled sob to burst from his lips.

Ciel chuckled, shifting so he sat beside his boyfriend, no longer between his legs. “I’m just getting started.” He picked up an object from the mattress and showed it off, making sure Sebastian saw it: a curved vibrating buttplug.

Sebastian whimpered as his cock grew again in anticipation and then shrank from the pain even as Ciel used the pump on their end table to generously lube the plug.

He worked it in slowly, slipping past the first ring of muscles and pausing to give Sebastian’s body time to accept it. Ciel’s free hand rubbed soothing circles over his boyfriend’s stomach as he eased the plug in the rest of the way, moving it around until he bumped the tip against Sebastian’s prostate, who let out a gasp. Then a whine as Ciel used the remote to turn on the vibration at its lowest setting.

Ciel’s hand swept over Sebastian’s thighs, along his stomach and up to his nipples, which still had the simple bar piercings inserted. He teased each with his fingers, brushing and scratching, featherlight touches that, combined with the stimulation from the plug, made Sebastian squirm and reach down to cup his balls, trying to work his fingertips into the air holes near the base of his cock in a vain attempt to touch himself. Ciel guided his boyfriend’s hand away, setting it aside. “No touching.”

Sebastian pressed his pelvis into the mattress in a reflexive attempt to relieve the pressure of the plug and the cock cage, but the movement only made the pain worse, and his breath stuttered.

“Hmm,” Ciel said in a playful tone, “I wonder what would happen if I did this?” And he enveloped one of Sebastian’s nipples with his mouth, tongue laving over it and dipping around the edges of the piercing.

Sebastian’s chest jerked, whimpering loudly as the pain in his cock swelled almost into bliss and he had to reach behind him to press his hands into the headboard as his hips rolled, desperate to escape the loop of denied pleasure into pain.

Humming—which only made Sebastian’s nipple tighten and grow even more sensitive—Ciel upped the plug’s vibration to the next level.

Sebastian bucked and screamed, panting, alternating harsh breaths with plaintive whines. “Please,” he begged, trying to flatten his back to escape the torture of his boyfriend’s mouth as it sucked and laved his nipple, the other not neglected as fingers tweaked and teased around the piercing. “Please,” Sebastian repeated in a trembling voice, the tension low in his belly tightening, frantic for his cock to escape its confines.

Ciel popped off and leaned back, a devilish grin on his face. “‘Please’ what?” he asked as he reached between his boyfriend’s legs, gripping the base of the plug and rocking it, being sure to bump the more sensitive center of Sebastian’s prostate but never for long enough to let his pleasure peak.

Sebastian braced his other foot on the bed, lifting his hips from the mattress but never escaping the plug. He began to get the powerful tension in his belly that felt like he had to piss, but he knew it was from the brutal assault on his prostate. He pressed his head back into the pillow with a grimace, and the vibration suddenly shut off, though the tightness in his groin remained. “Please, Ciel.”

Ciel removed the plug and set it aside, and then he kissed Sebastian, sliding fingers into dark hair, massaging the older man’s scalp as his tongue fucked his boyfriend’s mouth.

Sebastian kissed back with everything he had. Sex had never meant anything to him; he’d rarely even felt much from it until Ciel. He’d never fully internalized how pleasurable it could be, no matter how much he mastered his performance or how often he saw and heard his clients’ ecstasy. 

Ciel was the only one he kissed, the only one he would allow to completely dominate him in bed, the only sexual partner he’d ever had whom he trusted completely.

Sebastian felt heat sear through his entire body as they finally broke away, clinging to each other’s faces.

Ciel’s eyes had darkened with desire as he gazed down at his boyfriend. “I want to fuck you bare.”

It took a moment for Sebastian’s lust-addled brain to register what Ciel was asking: he didn’t want to wear a condom. “No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Seb—”

“It’s too risky. You know I’ve sworn to always protect you, even from myself. No.”

Ciel pressed a chaste kiss to Sebastian’s lips. “You always use a condom at work, even for blow jobs. You take that medicine every day to reduce your risk of getting HIV. You’re tested every two weeks; both of our last results were clean.” He stroked down along Sebastian’s cheek to his neck and shoulder, making the man purr. “I want to feel you. I want to be the only one who you really feel. I want to fill you up. Watch my cum seep out of that ass.”

Sebastian groaned, the image Ciel painted renewing the tension in his gut that had subsided slightly with the brief reprieve. His cock swelled and the resulting pain had him reaching for the base of his dick, trying to find skin to soothe the ache. “It’s not safe,” he whispered.

“I want this. This one time. My risk is low. Please let me do this.”

Sebastian brought one of Ciel’s hands to his mouth and kissed the palm. The promise of being fucked bare reminded him of Lau, of how precarious their life now was, of an emotion Sebastian hadn’t felt in years: fear. What if today was the last time they were able to even have sex?

Misreading the emotion in Sebastian’s eyes, Ciel softened. “I won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

Sebastian let out a long sigh and nodded. “Just this once.”

Ciel beamed, kissed his boyfriend suddenly, quick and sloppy, their noses bumping and teeth clicking. He lifted one of Sebastian’s legs so he could slide between them, and stretched to pump some lube into his hand.

Sebastian leaned up on his elbows so he could better see as Ciel stroked himself to full hardness, his pale cock curbing subtly upward as it grew.

“Gonna fuck you till you cry and beg for release, then I’m going to milk every last drop so you couldn’t come again even if I took the cage off.”

Sebastian whined, which turned into a moan as Ciel guided the head of his cock into the other man’s gaping hole.

Stretched from the plug, Ciel easily slid in deeper, gripping his boyfriend’s legs to help control his angle. His goal was to lightly brush along the prostate, rather than hitting its most sensitive center, driving Sebastian closer and closer to release.

They both let out a long, loud moan almost in sync; even the best condom couldn’t compare to this. Sebastian could feel the shift as Ciel’s cock slid over his gland from tip to ridge to shaft, the warmth of the other man inside him as he rocked his hips to lazily tease Sebastian’s spot.

Again, Sebastian hardened within the confines of the cage, the pleasure of his boyfriend’s cock inside him overwhelming the pain. Like this, it almost felt as if Ciel were somehow massaging his cock from the inside out, and he stretched to pull the younger man closer.

“Ah, f—fuck, Seb, unnnnh,” Ciel moaned as he thrust, long, languid strokes, the curse stuttering as he bit and released his lip as he spoke. He adjusted his stance, shifting a knee higher on the bed and leaning down onto his hands, braced on either side of Sebastian’s shoulders. The new position let him drive harder, deeper, still avoiding the middle of Sebastian’s prostate except in passing.

“No one fucks me like this, only you,” Sebastian said, grabbing Ciel’s ass with both hands to aid his movements.

“Your cock is _mine_. Your ass is _mine_. _You’re_ mine.” Ciel’s blue eyes blazed as he arched his back to change the angle again, bumping the crown of his cock more prominently along his boyfriend’s gland.

Sebastian cried out, a harsh sound as the pain blossomed, his cock pressing against every part of the confines of the cage, the tightness in his gut intensifying with every thrust of turgid flesh inside him. He clenched around Ciel’s length, trying to instinctively draw him in, bond them together so that no one could ever separate them.

Ciel dug his fingers into the meat of Sebastian’s thighs, driving harder, forgetting himself, getting lost in pleasure as he reached for his release.

The hard pounding against his prostate made Sebastian bite his lip. The urge to pee, like someone was forcefully wresting his control over his body building with each of Ciel’s frenzied thrusts. He pressed his palms behind him against the headboard, using the leverage to force them together as Ciel rose up onto his knees again, lifting Sebastian’s legs and laying them on his shoulders, angling the older man’s pelvis up.

Ciel let out a groan Sebastian could feel through their connection, his head tipping back and his bun coming undone, slate locks cascading around his shoulders. This new position caused Ciel’s rhythm to falter and stutter as he clasped Sebastian’s ass cheeks to drag him nearer.

Sebastian clenched, squeezing his boyfriend’s cock, and that seemed to be enough to push the younger man over the edge.

Ciel stalled, his entire body tensing as he shot with a shout, his warmth filling Sebastian. He rocked a few times slowly, struggling to grasp every last second of his orgasm, hips bucking a couple times before he went still, panting. A few more before he slipped out.

The pain in Sebastian’s cock, in his gut, was almost too much to bear; he felt like he had drunk a gallon of water and not peed all day, like he’d been hard for hours without release. “It hurts, Ciel. Please.”

It took a second for Ciel to come down from his high and back to the present. He frowned, only for a moment. “Since you asked so nicely, and you look so fucking good with my spunk leaking out your hole.” Ciel eased three fingers inside Sebastian, curling until he found the bump, tapping and brushing over and over, light to medium pressure, eyes full of heat, gaze fixed on his boyfriend.

Sebastian’s cock twitched and his limbs began to shake so much he couldn’t keep his legs on Ciel’s shoulders. They fell to the bed and made his boyfriend’s hand shift, the pressure excruciatingly unbearable. He struggled to breathe, wanting desperately to come but knowing that even with all his control, with the cock ring and cage he couldn’t; he couldn’t even stay hard. He pressed his head into the pillow and suddenly felt it happen: fluid dripping, seeping out of him completely against his will, leaking from the head of his cock through the slot in the front of the plastic tube. But it brought little relief, no euphoria, not even the pleasant clenching of muscles from a good piss.

He whined and squirmed as Ciel’s fingers continued to torture his gland as if the bastard were attempting to wring him out from the inside. Tears sprung to his eyes, his entire body felt possessed; only the pain and pressure reminded him it was his own. Ciel continued to brush repeatedly over Sebastian’s prostate, fluid continued to seep for an eternity until at last his limbs and cock ceased twitching, spent.

“Fucking sadist,” Sebastian grit, trying to catch his breath, massaging his stomach.

Ciel removed his fingers and cleaned them and the worst of the mess with a small towel. “Maybe you’ll think twice next time before you make me swallow in front of our friends.”

Sebastian groaned. He was so, so horny, but he couldn’t even get hard now that he was completely drained. And Ciel had warned he’d have to stay in chastity all day, which meant he couldn’t even jack off later.

“You should shower.”

Sebastian sighed. “Take it off?” Bathing with the cage was brutally uncomfortable, the hot water causing everything to swell.

Ciel acted as if he were considering it, then said, “Nope. I’ll take it off this evening. And if you pick the lock, I’ll know, and you’ll really regret it.” He kissed Sebastian’s cheek and hopped off the bed, his tight little ass mocking Sebastian with every step. After a moment of digging in a drawer—and still fully naked—Ciel returned with a set of nipple rings. They were black, composed of many chains that hung down, each ending in a sharp point. Sebastian had only worn them a few times, and never for more than an hour or two with clients because of how they relentlessly stimulated his nipples. Ciel tossed them so they landed on his boyfriend’s chest. “And you’ll wear these all day.” He winked. “That way you’ll really think of your punishment and learn to behave.”

Ciel perched on the edge of the bed, beside Sebastian, smoothing his boyfriend’s face lovingly. “You OK?” His brows drew up and together, his slate hair tucked behind each ear. “You’re not still hurting, are you?”

Sebastian shook his head, leaning into Ciel’s touch.

“Good,” Ciel said, looking relieved. “I love hearing you beg and cry, but I never want to hurt you.”

“I liked feeling you inside me. Like you marked me, like I’m yours.”

“Of course you’re mine.” Ciel twined his fingers in dark silky locks, grinning. “Till the end.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

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